


Billie the Crocodile's and Little Bear's Christmas Adventure

by Ilovehighhats



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight Rises - Fandom
Genre: Bad Flirting, Construction Workers, F/M, Field Trip, Sexual Roleplay, general silliness, holiday fic, remodeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 43,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovehighhats/pseuds/Ilovehighhats
Summary: Spencer, an acclaimed writer, is trapped in an apartment where she can't sleep due to her rowdy neighbours. Fear not though, for the GeneralContractor!Bane comes to the rescue. :D He's going to make her swoon with smooth plaster on the walls, impeccable wiring, and the abundance of power outlets suited perfectly for all her needs!Also, there's going to be a lot of beer, snow, deer, plaid shirts, some bad UP jokes and the most important of all - sassy foreman John Barsad and nosy literary agent Selina Kyle.Daily updates too!





	1. Wall Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello me hearties!
> 
> 'Tis the season of hot chocolate and snow! And holiday fic silliness! Yay!
> 
> This little piece was inspired by excellent fun I had last year, while reading Teacuphuman's stuff (on AO3); especially "Christmas in Gotham Harbour" and "Holiday in Handcuffs". She is also the writer who made the most convincing "Warrior" story I ever read "Through the Darkness"; and it was a crossover too, and I never read crossovers but this one was THE SHIT. (Srsly, go read it if you haven't yet) So eloquent of me, I know… Suffice to say it left me wordless. Then she got this fantastic study of Barsad and Bane in "Close Shave". And like a ton more...
> 
> But I'm off topic. Those stories are the best, and I thoroughly relished waiting for new chapters, especially of those christmasy goodness, to come out. But they're so gay. I mean it's fine, I quite like it, what's there not to enjoy when you get two insanely charismatic characters together? However, I think we wouldn't be amiss to get some more of the (hopefully) similar, but with a little twist.
> 
> So, below you'll find the first entry in our little het advent calendar. I hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> If you can get your hands on any of the brews mentioned below, do tell how you liked them. :D
> 
> oOo
> 
> Very special thanks to:
> 
> @ThreeDots, as always, for enduring everything she has to endure.
> 
> @Magnificent07, for help with figuring out intricacies of Yoopanese culture. ;)
> 
> @E, for guidance in a lot of things, and some very inspiring insight.

 

oOo

Reclamation IPA

Ore Docks Brewing Company

_ Clear gold onslaught of reality, tamed by budding possibilities. _

_ oOo _

 

The bedpost thunked on the wall, like a metronome, accentuating each and every moan and gasp of the bed’s occupants. Their moans and pants mingled in the air, travelling unobstructed through the November night. 

“Oh yeah baby, just like that, show me how you want me!” The man praised, a loud slap echoing right after he finished.

“Ai, Papi! Harder!” 

The slap returned, followed by another and then one more, ever louder shrieks of delight from the woman an incessant backdrop to it all.

Spencer groaned into the pillow she held over her head. Earplugs were not an option since they left her ears sore and head aching, so she was reduced to trying to block out the noise her neighbours made with just her hands and duck feathers. To no use.

It was ridiculous, and doubly so since she knew no one on the block was Latino. So, to add insult to injury, she had to endure not just regular sex, but a poor roleplay, night after night. Going to ask the neighbours to keep it down was not an option; it was not their fault the walls were too thin, plus Spencer would never make anyone hold back during lovemaking. That would leave a terrible scar, difficult to erase. Certainly more inconvenient, if the healing was made solo.

Since she moved to her grandma's apartment, God rest her soul, Spencer was reminded perpetually of what her Nana used to say. You either don't notice you have neighbors or you want to kill them. Now she knew what the old coot meant. And why did Spencer get the apartment, when her brother was specifically assigned a retro car and an extensive collection of still-nature paintings. It all stayed where it was, filling Spencer’s spare room and taking the extra parking space she had to pay for, since Brad had no interest in either, but now Spencer knew what was the real thought behind a suspiciously generous last will. She was never granny's favourite. And now it showed. In a town where vast majority of housing was single-family homes, her Nana had to switch in her later years to a modern block of flats. Sure, it was smaller than her old home and had an elevator, but since she hardly ever moved out of the apartment, Spencer just knew it was a tactical decision. To spite her. Everybody in the family knew that she loved the old house on Rock Street. So what if the hospital was only five minutes away from the new flat? Or that she had a great view of the Lighthouse and Lake Superior? That was nothing compared to the ambience and history of a family home.

Everyone thought she would just sell it all and go back to her tiny apartment in Chicago. But Spencer had always been determined. No one believed she could live off of writing, and not only she did, but her books were considered one of the best in her little niche. And she branched out into broader waters with quite a success too. 

She would find a way out of this madness.

With a decisive huff she got up and trotted in fluffy slippers to the kitchen. On the other side of the house. It wasn’t a retreat, only a tactical rearranging of her position, she assured herself, opening the cabinet to get the mug for tea. Clock on the oven blinked, so she turned on her phone to regulate it. 01:34. She noticed an email from her editor. 

While the water was boiling she read through the message and compiled a short reply, already dreading the talking to she’d get in return. No one was happy with her relocation out of Chicago, least of all her publishing house. But she got them results, finishing a thriller in record time, jumping out of the cozy familiarity of children’s books into a surprisingly refreshing place of decay, death and fear. 

Now, all she had to do was maintain her bestseller status, and everything would be all right… If only she could write at all, or at least something that wasn’t a murderous psychopath’s fantasy. 

The kettle whistled and almost drowned out the sound of her phone ringing a happy tune.

Spencer frowned, flicked the stove off and picked up.

“Marquette City Morgue, can I take your order please?”

“Eww, Kitty Cat, that’s just gross.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And you just replied to my email, so I know you’re not asleep, so your argument is invalid.”

Spencer sighed hearing the slight purr in her caller’s voice.

“Sure. What do you want to discuss now?”

“The usual, how’s writing going, are you happy with the graphics for Billie, why did you run away…”

“I didn't run away, I just moved to broaden my horizons.”

“You mean narrow.”

“I’ll have you know I talked with more people since I moved here, than for a whole year while I was back in Chicago.”

“So, you got a boyfriend yet?”

“I’m working on it,” she mumbled, stirring in honey into her earl grey. She really wasn’t, but that was only her problem, no one else's.

“Acclaimed children's book writer moves out to the province to find love! I can see the headlines already.” Her agent giggled in the receiver.

“Well, she did find love, living just next door. Love has a habit of engaging in obnoxiously loud intercourse, as it turns out. Daily. Honestly, I don't know where those people find the strength and will.”

“Hey, don’t blame them for not suffering a dry spell that could rival California's need for water.”

“Very funny,” she snickered. It was true, but then again, only her problem. Maybe she should branch out into erotica…

Selina didn't let her steep in idle musings, barking out a short chuckle.

“You love me, that’s why there isn’t anyone else in your life.”

“You wish.”

“You know you do.”

“Yeah, maybe I do and maybe I don't. Might need a little somethin’ to jug my memory.” She smiled at the sound of her friend’s giggle, but then sighed. “What I know is I can’t write another ‘Billie the Crocodile’ with those two keeping up their shenanigans night after night. Honestly, I don’t remember when I got a decent night's sleep two times in a row.”

“So how come you finished ‘Void Conquered’ so fast?”

“I was pretty frustrated, so that helped tremendously with all those emo feelings, general darkness and gruesome details of violent deaths.”

“Oh, scary,” her agent giggled again.

“I’m serious Selina, I can’t work on Billie in these conditions.”

“Hire someone to soundproof the room.”

Spencer fell into an astonished silence.

“You didn't think of that did you, Kitty Cat?”

“I was too preoccupied with inventing new ways of torturing noisy people. I’m starting to develop plot for the new one. ‘Absorbed in Silence’ would be the working title, I think. And it could be a continuation of Void, if I only...” 

“Be sure to write it all down. I think I heard something about a good construction crew near you, let me check with Aunt G.”

“Sure. Back to work then.”

“Bull, girl. Enjoy your night though.”

  
  
  



	2. One Call Away

oOo

November Gale Pale Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Assertive character meets sweetness and tangy anticipation. _

_ oOo _

 

The message from Selina’s aunt came in the early morning, whisking Spencer from the arms of another faceless fantasy lover. This one was strong but gentle, surrounding her in a blanket of warmth and safety, muscular arms encircling her back like anchors keeping her closer to him. And he was so silent, one could say mute even.

Perfect, if not for the fact that he didn't exist.

She grunted and grumbled and nearly threw the phone across the room when it chimed. There was the number for the construction crew and an invitation for Thanksgiving. Both resulted in groans, but for totally different reasons.

At least it was quiet on the other side of the wall.

After breakfast and some internet snooping, she decided it was best to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible. The phone beeped with each press on the screen, the numbers a countdown to the new, peaceful life. 

She could almost feel it, the tranquillity that would reign once more in her life, the silence in the rooms, luxury of a good night’s rest…

“Speak.”

The voice was deep, rumbling and extremely annoyed. Spencer gasped slightly and cleared her throat. 

_ I wonder how long he had to wait for me to actually talk... _

“Yeah sorry, I spaced out. Spencer Parker here, I got this number from a friend. I’m looking for a contractor for a small but urgent job.”

There was a short pause on the other side of the receiver, followed by a pensive hum.

“Well, you found one. I’m all ears.”

A shiver ran down her arm, tingled the skin on her back and left goosebumps in its wake. That voice could make her do just about anything, especially since its owner seemed less than interested in using any sentences that weren’t short and curt and painfully to the point. 

“I have a room I’d like to renovate, soundproof, and merge with the smaller one beside it. It’s about 120 square feet altogether, I think. And I’m really pressed for time.”

“I see. I’d have to see it first to gauge the extent of work to be done, but you’re in luck. I have a window between jobs in my schedule that I could squeeze you in.”

“Okay, so do you want to come by today?” She bit her lip and crossed her fingers, hopeful.

“Tomorrow, if you don’t mind. Is 20:00 acceptable?” The way he said it, not ‘eight p.m.’ but ‘twenty hundred’ had her nearly moaning into the phone. 

_ It gets better and better with each passing second. _

“That’s great... I’ll text you the address. Um, sorry but my friend didn’t leave your name, and I didn’t catch it at the beginning.”

“Bane.”

_ Seriously? _

“Right then, see you to-” Before she finished, the call was already disconnected. 

Spencer was left confused and slightly breathless on the couch. So now she had a whole day and a half to aimlessly wander around the apartment, and build the stress of actually receiving a visitor. 

And if his looks matched the voice, she was going to be in deep trouble. 

_ I wonder if he’d growl. Or maybe would he mumble? Maybe he was so curt on the phone because he’s shy? Maybe he’s one of those people who sound like the Hulk, but look like Steve Rogers before getting the serum to bulk up. And it would be lovely for a bulky, browny, really muscular guy to visit… _

Then she remembered it was only a contractor. A person with feelings and family she was about to hire to do a job for her. A very specific task, and nothing else beside it.

_ Get a fucking grip on yourself, Spence! _

Low groan rumbled out of her chest as she slid down on the couch with hands buried in her hair, phone forgotten. It was still early, so her neighbours would stay silent for a while. She should work. Then, in the evening she could try to relax with a beer, and maybe some headphones on. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Spencer said to the living room ceiling.

Writing occupied her for a few hours. During lunch break she munched on a sandwich, looking down the kitchen window at people jogging under umbrellas to get out of the icy November rain. It was snowing during the night, and now the streets were filled with brown slush, sure to solidify in a few hours and then be covered by a fresh layer of snow. 

Despite the hour it was already getting gloomy. She caressed the rough surface of the mug and smiled taking a swig of tea. The glaze inside was brilliantly yellow, like honey mixed with gold pollen, lush and decadent. The outside was rough and uneven, the contrast bringing up the inside even more. She remembered making this mug, on a day very much like this one. Nana was so mad at her for not going to college, and she stubbornly refused any monetary help while on an apprenticeship. It paid off. 

This very mug was her proof of how well it all went, a token from her first big commission. 

Spencer smiled to herself and looked out the window again.

The street was deserted, all her neighbours off at work, or perhaps like her hidden from view in the comfort of their homes, mulling what to do next. There was always the option of just going out on Washington or North 3rd Street and just soak up the inspiration from people passing her by. Or, she could take a hike down the Iron Trail. With the weather the way it was however, she only shuddered and went back on her couch.

Maybe she should get a beer to clear her head?

An idea sprouted from that thought. It was the middle of November. Back in summer, before she settled for good, there was this beer festival, which she missed and was actually really sad about it; there were so many fantastic breweries around, three in Marquette itself! 

What if she got herself an adult advent calendar? 

Already she had a cupboard dedicated for alcohol, so now she only needed to stockpile some beer. Some more, that is. There should easily be enough varieties around to have a different brew everyday for a month. And she could count up the days with all the empty bottles and cans lined up on the mantelpiece with appropriate number.

There was no one there to tell her she’d look like an alcoholic, and she enjoyed her goddamn beer, so why the hell not?

Spencer nodded to herself and grinned.

_ Time to get those reserves up to scratch! _


	3. Pub Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is an important scene, but for some may seem like a torture device.  
> Choose the description that suits your feelings best. ;)

 

oOo

Widow Maker Black Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Don't let looks deceive you. _

oOo

 

The pub was cozy in an undemanding and familiar way. A little further down the road there was a new brewery opened just a few years back, in a yellow house on the corner, with quirky decor and plethora of young and hip guests. It was good by any standard but for Spencer it had one big disadvantage - she stuck out there like a sore thumb. Here at Stucko’s she could order a good beer, eat her dinner, and just work on anything she felt like drafting at the moment. There was always some sporting channel yapping on, adding to the ambience, and around her were people minding their own business, letting her overhear their conversations, make note of their little tics and mannerisms. There were just enough tourists to keep the crowd entertaining, and the locals provided a good backbone for extended research. 

It was time for all those “D’ja get your deer?” conversations, making her fall back into comfortable familiarity of her childhood, grounding and nostalgic at the same time.

She had come so far… The fact that she could live comfortably, even if carefully, out of her own writing was the biggest achievement of her life. Even though her Nana used to pester her about studying, she used that as a backup plan. Writing was the dream and goal all along. And she did it. Now all that was left was to keep doing that, and find inspiration. 

Today Spencer was in luck, because she spotted one of her favourite models just where she would have the perfect view to snoop from her usual spot. The evening was early enough so that the corner table she preferred was still open, so Spencer ordered her usual, fried whitefish and a pint of Widowmaker Black Ale. Beers here were mostly local, and she ordered her first Widowmaker way back when she was visiting with her grandma, fresh out of her apprenticeship. She was charmed by the name, and it was her favourite ever since. 

Waiting for her food and sipping on the beer, she opened a notebook to start some sketches while she could still focus on her muse. The woman was gorgeous, there was no hiding that. Despite her obvious attempts at covering her best assets, her beauty was shining through, like a golden nugget glistening in the sun despite its crude form. Her hair, trapped in a simple ponytail, was glistening and slick like crows feathers. Alert and intelligent black eyes were rimmed by lashes so thick and lush, Spencer wondered sometimes if they even could be real. But since there wasn't the smallest splatter of makeup on the woman, it was the only option, no way around it. Perfectly sculpted nose led to full but not too big lips. The ideal mixture between pouty and shapely. Slightly protruding cheekbones accentuated exotically tilted eyes, and tapered down into a pointed, dainty chin. If Spencer ever envied someone, it was that woman. Even her figure was perfect, from what was visible between baggy and unappealing clothing. And the worst part? She was a doctor. 

A beautiful and devastatingly successful specimen. 

Spencer sketched her idly, the characteristics of the stranger’s face familiar to the point she needed only the barest outline to catch her essence on a page. She was done in a flash, but none of the drawings were enough. Today was a day for writing anyway. 

She got her meal just in time. After two bites, her model fished a cellphone out of her handbag, frowned at it adorably, then scoffed and picked up.

Spencer had the pencil in her right hand ready over the notebook, while with her left she shuffled delicious fish to get it into her mouth. 

_ Damn, grilled whitefish is a sensation. _

“Hello,” the woman said in an icy tone. For a while she just listened, but then her posture changed visibly. Before she sat straight, but now she was rigid, as if she steeled herself towards whomever was on the other side of the conversation. 

“No, B. I will not go back to Chicago. I will not go back to you. We had this conversation before.”

She listened for a moment longer then disconnected the call without further comment. 

Spencer was left with a fry half eaten, held just an inch from her lips. 

_ Who was that cold? _

The woman sighed and dialled a number. Spencer’s ears perked up in attention.

“Hi, Love.” Now, the woman sounded like a different person altogether, her voice throaty and velvety smooth.

“I'm fine. B. called. No, I didn't. No, it was the usual. No, of course not. Please don't tell him.”

_ Tell who? Tell what? _

“I know. But the last thing Damian needs now is B. barging in for a second, then barging out to the other side of the world for a few years without a word. Yes. No. I won't tell him. And you won't either.”

Her voice was deep and seducing, hypnotizing in its velvety smoothness. Yet, the words were sharp as the nails she seemed to want to ram into that mysterious “B” person. 

“I don't want him anywhere near us. I don't want him corrupting Damian’s mind.”

_ Corrupting his mind? Who the hell says that? _

“Well, as long as I deem fit. Forever, if everything stays as it is. I don't think he needs to know. No, I really don't.” 

Spencer noted furiously, but the rest of the conversation was just fragmented pieces without much substance. 

“Either. Yes. No. Later today. No, I have the evening off. Okay, that’s a good idea. Bye.”

The woman sighed again, finished her meal, and went out of the pub, leaving the writer behind with all her assumptions and ideas.

She let her imagination go on the second pint. 

_ Perhaps, the doctor had an illegitimate child with someone on the board of directors of the hospital? Perhaps she was proud, too proud, and would never acknowledge anything that could hint at her gaining anything in a less than professional manner? Perhaps her son's father was some kind of criminal? Or an artist? Someone famous? A preacher? A missionary? A journalist? _

She did mention him going abroad for extended periods of time…

The speculation kept Spencer entertained for the rest of the evening.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr Bane will see you now...


	4. Ring the Bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I have too many chapters. What a problem to have, huh? So, you guys will get a surprise update! There will be another one at some point, but I'm not sure when exactly.  
> Anyway, hope you'll enjoy chapter no 4.  
> Mr Bane makes an appearance, finally! :D

oOo

Don’t Get Me Stouted

Jasper Ridge Brewery

_Full bodied and solid, with hint of dryness. Surprisingly complex._

oOo

 

The doorbell rung curtly, twice in a short succession. Spencer dried her hands and looked around for the tenth time. Everything seemed to be in order, but she couldn't shake the feeling there was something she forgot. But it wasn't a real guest she was about to be entertaining, so she brushed the errant thought away, strolling to the door.

Without a peer through the visor she moved the heavy plane of wood away with a smile.

“Hello,” she started and stuttered to a stop. Her eyes were at level with a very broad chest, clad in a simple plaid button-down shirt. Raising her eyebrows she turned her gaze up, following rows of buttons to the collar left open over a strong neck, revealing a hint of cotton henley underneath. Then up again, to plush lips, bisected with a scar, then up the mark to an elegant nose and a pair of piercing brown eyes.

She blinked and gulped, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

“Mr Bane, I presume?”

“Indeed.“ He produced a business card, handed it slowly and patiently waited for Spencer to get acquainted with its contents.

A Mr Dorrance Bane from Little Bear Contractors.

_So that *was* his actual name, after all._

She hummed, a drown-out throaty purr, in consideration. The amount of bad jokes and puns he had to get for the company name and his looks had to be staggering. She wondered if he chose it on purpose, if there was a story behind it, or maybe it was just some kind of funny coincidence. But who names their company something random?

“Ms Parker?”

“Oh. Where are my manners, do come in, please.”

“Thank you.”

He walked in after her, crowding the space of the entryway with his imposing frame. He left the jacket, a lump of black leather he had hanging off his shoulder, on the wooden hanger and inclined his head towards his host with a questioning shift of his eyebrow.

The sheer amount of muscle on him was making Spencer’s head dizzy, and on top of it was this luscious mouth, soft and pillowy lips a sharp contrast to budding stubble around. And those penetrating eyes, calm but alert at the same time...

Right, she was staring again.

“Let's go to the living room.” Stiff smile was all she could do to try and mask the impression he made. She felt like a swarm of bees was buzzing through her veins, bringing her skin alive, sharpening her senses.

_Get yourself together woman! No wonder you’re still single, you creep people out!_

“Would you like some tea?”

“That won't be necessary at this point.“

She could have melted at the low rumble of his voice. At this point, he said. She could imagine three ways to understand that sentence...

“I think it would be most prudent if I assess the workload immediately,“ his low grumble didn’t let her tangle in her thoughts again.

“Of course, follow me please.”

She was giddy when he stalked after her to the bedroom, his steps silent on the wooden floor. Light threading seemed odd for a person of this posture, but he held himself with such poise it seemed only natural.

“As I've said before, this room needs expanding and silencing.“

“Some electrical work as well, yes?”

“Of course, to accommodate the new shape of the space and placement of the furniture.” She gestured towards the far wall. “I'd like this to be eliminated, then we could have an alcove for the desk and books, and move the bed to where the other room is now, on a raised part of the floor. An overhanging lamp above the bed, some on the walls, this sort of thing. But the soundproofing is crucial, so everything will have to be adjusted in accordance to that. I’m counting on your expert advice.“

The man nodded, looking around. He fished out a notebook and tape, scribbled some things, taking measurements here and there.

“Brick walls?”

“I think so. It was built pretty recently, though, so it may be something more contemporary.”

He patted the wall in few places, sliding his big palm around.

Spencer watched him from her spot by the door, trying not to envy an inanimate object.

“Which door would you like to leave?” The question was asked in passing, as he walked over to the second bedroom. He frowned at the boxes littering the space all the way up to the ceiling, but managed to squeeze in between them enough to take the measures he needed.

“The ones to the main bedroom,” Spencer said, peeking at what he did from the hallway.  

“I see. Let me just check something again in the other room.”

“Sure, take your time.”

She smiled and moved to make way for him, but not fast enough. He brushed past her so closely she could actually smell him. That dazed her for a moment.

_Get a hold of yourself. So what if he smells better than coffee in the morning?_

Against herself she leaned on the wall, the broad plane of cold plaster at her back granting her a touch of sanity. Muscles in her thighs contracted in a vain attempt to keep the growing awareness of her arousal at bay. It was quite a while since she entertained anyone in her bedroom. And someone like this guy? He seemed way out of her league. What was he doing fixing houses anyway? With a face like this, not to mention the body, he should be a model at the very least. Perhaps someone should immortalize him in Sevres, as an exemplar for male form...

Again, his voice brought her back to Earth.

“We should be able to finish this project in about two or three weeks, provided there aren't any surprises hidden in the walls.”

There was one thing she didn’t yet have a chance to tell him about, but not exactly ‘in’ the walls…

Just as she was about to answer Spencer paused. As if summoned by her thoughts, a woman's voice sounded matter-of-factly through the divide.

“¿Está ocupado este asiento, señor?”

If she didn't know any better Spencer could have sworn on the other side was a borderside bar, not a regular bedroom. Heavily dawling and extremely amused man's voice soon joined in, the accent suspiciously well performed.

“I don't know what you just told to me doll, but there ain't no rodeo clown that can keep me off you.”

“Ai, señor qué tienes en el bolsillo?” The woman seemed surprised but intrigued.

“That ain't my gun sugar, that's for sure. You know how they say everything's bigger in Texas? Want proof?”

On cue, the neighbours started their evening ritual. Booming voice of the man was soon joined by shrill cries of his partner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can translate the Spanish if it's needed, but I thought it would be funnier to read it a bit obscure like it is for Spencer.


	5. Tea for Two

 

oOo

Grand Rabbit’s Cream Ale

Blackrocks Brewery

_ Refreshing and zesty, but still going down smoothly. _

oOo

 

As if on cue, the neighbours started their evening ritual. Booming voice of the man was soon joined by shrill cries of his partner. 

“As you can, um, hear, the soundproofing is really crucial.” Slight tremor in her voice betrayed her embarrassment, as did the rush of blood to her cheeks. “I suggest we relocate to the living room?”

“Yes please.” The construction man nodded, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I see now why this task is so urgent.”

“Well, I’m working from home. This,” she moved her thumb to her back as she carefully closed the door behind them, “doesn’t help my concentration. I’m supposed to be writing children's novels.”

“Not a very inspiring environment then,” he noted.

The voices were still pretty audible, despite the layers of bricks and wood between them. Certainly, neither the man nor his partner held back. Spencer thought it pretty healthy, although annoying to no end.

“Not towards literature for minors at least,” she replied with a wistful note in her voice. Her cheeks reddened when she caught a puzzled gaze he sent her way. She kept forgetting her thriller was published under a different name. Not that she suspected this man to know a thing about her work. “Right. Tea, then?”

“A cup would be lovely.”

“I’ll be right with you, make yourself at home.”

Leaving Bane in the living room she ran to the kitchen, made sure the divide was shut, then  put on the kettle and prepared a teapot, all in a short minute. Then she tried not to groan as she doubled down over the counter, face hidden in her palms, banging her forehead softly on the hardwood. 

This guy was like her dream come true. She could climb him right away, but when he opened his mouth… Those sinful, luscious, plushy lips themselves were to die for, but his voice made the whole package even more irresistible. The way he spoke, to the point, with a foreign lilt in his tone and an underlying hint of mockery, made her weak in the knees. And his voice itself, low and rumbling, and registering physically in her bones whenever he decided to use it…

She whined pitifully.

_ How ever would I be able to sit with him to work out the details of the job? _

“Are you okay?”

She jumped in surprise, banging the back of her head on the overhanging cupboards. The kettle started to whistle just when her vision blackened and blurred.

Big palms guided her to the little dining table, and forced her gently into a chair. 

“I’m fine, really, it’s nothing,” she mumbled.

The noise from the stove died down, and she heard a murmur of poured water. Bergamot aroma filled the kitchen. Spencer let herself rest for another little while. She felt an icy breeze on her ankles, and soon after something cold and wet touched the still throbbing back of her head.

“Here, hold it,” her guest rumbled above her.

Small balls bounced and shifted underneath her fingers, making her smile.

“I never would have thought peas could be so useful.”

“My apologies for startling you.”

“It’s fine, I just needed to stretch my spine.”

The hum he gave sounded a bit dubious, but neither of them pursued the matter further. What was there to say?

“I can give you an estimate of work to be done and the costs, but if you’re unwell I could come back tomorrow.”

“It’s really fine, don’t worry. Walk me through everything that needs to be done, please.”

Spencer gestured for Bane to sit opposite her. He obliged, putting the mugs on the table before he carefully took a seat on a wooden stool. 

“First, we need to tear down the plaster to expose what exactly are we dealing with underneath. And to get to the wiring. Also, we have to tear down the wall between the rooms. That should take us one whole day, complete with the cleaning of the debris.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“It’s also the loudest part of the job, so you might want to notify your neighbours.”

“I’ll think about it.” She smirked, enjoying the way Bane’s eyes shone with mirth for a second.

“Next, provided the walls are indeed made of bricks and there aren't any supporting beams, we’d have to get to the actual soundproofing. I think most suitable here would be double layer of half inch drywall, and sandwiched with it some MLV. Same for the ceiling, and for the floor I think regular rubber underlayment should be more than enough.”

“Wait, ceiling and floor have to be treated as well?”

“Yes. Think of the sound waves like water. If you put it in a leaking container, it will get out through the cracks. If the container won’t have the bottom or the lid, you won’t keep it in, no matter how hard you try. Or keep it out, seeing what your particular predicament is.”

“Okay, but is it possible to leave the original floorboards there?”

“That can be done. I’ll have my men put them just as they were. With the correction for change in levels, of course. There would have to be some additions.”

Spencer nodded. 

“So how much would all this luxury cost me? Like, a rough estimate?”

Bane scribbled down a number on a piece of paper and slid it her way.

The figure wasn’t small.

“This will be much more expensive than what I initially anticipated.”

“That's the price tag on your quality of life.” 

Spencer hummed, still mulling over the numbers.

“Plus, I’ll be available to you free of charge should anything malfunction or need repairs in the first three years.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She smiled shyly. “I guess there’s no point in stinting on my own comfort.”

He nodded solemnly, after taking a sip of his drink.  

“Give me your email, I’ll send you the detailed expense sheet tomorrow. If you’ll approve, we could start the work right after Thanksgiving.”

He slid his smartphone her way. The case was thick black rubber and it looked industrial. She barely could fit it in one palm, so instead she punched in her contact info while keeping the phone on the table. Then she slid it back and watched as he gently raised it to his eyes to memorize the address. His hands were huge, fingers long and strong. Not too thick, but not a pianist’s digits either. Clearly roughened by hours upon hour of physical work. The skin looked dried out and Spencer had the strongest urge to get some lotion and just massage it in until they became soft and pliable. Or maybe oil, to bring out their beautiful shape at the same time?

She nearly spaced out again.

Meanwhile, oblivious to her plight, Bane continued talking.

“Also, whether you’ll decide to acquire my services or not, you need to get permits for the remodelling. Did you start with that yet?”

“Um, nope, I didn’t think about it.”

“You probably won’t need one for demolishing the wall separating rooms, since it's not load-bearing. However, the layout of the apartment is going to change, plus we need to do some electrical work. We could park the dumpster for the rubble out on the guest parking in the back, so that permit will luckily not concern you, unless your neighbors won't agree, and we’d have to park on a public street. All in all it should be around this much.” He scribbled another number below his initial estimate. “I’ll include that in tomorrow's email, so you can see clearly where all the expense is coming from.”

“That’s great.” Spencer stammered and smiled weakly. 

_ There goes my holiday break abroad… _

Her cellphone vibrated, displaying picture of a short haired woman with a sultry smile. 

“Oh, that's my agent.”

“You better take it then.”

“It can wait. “

“I should be leaving soon anyway.”

“Oh, right.” She tried not to sound disappointed.  “Of course. Let me walk you to the door.”

“May I finish my tea first?”

_ Fuck. _

She blushed and bit her lip. 

Bane chuckled.

“I apologise for inconveniencing you any more than necessary, but it's a really lovely cup. What is that exactly?”

“Tea is darjeeling oolong, and it's enhanced with bergamot aroma and cornflower pieces.“

“Pretty and delicious. How very satisfying.”

_ Oh, I can show you satisfying… _

“Um, yeah, it is a really nice batch.“

“Indeed it is,” he smiled and drained the remainder of liquid from his cup. “Time for me.”

They got up at the same time and Spencer shifted awkwardly a bit to get past Bane's broad frame and to the doorway. Illogically, she wished her kitchen would be even smaller and cramped. 

With measured steps she led the way to the entrance, then watched as the man donned his jacket. The leather squeaked softly and looked buttery soft, a little worn but well maintained, obviously kept up with love over the years. She could see how he'd have to run his palms through plane of leather to spread oil or lotion, how he'd carefully work in measured and methodical movements…

“Ms. P.?”

“Huh?”

“Did you space out again?”

“I guess I did,” she admitted sheepishly, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. “Sorry, I get ideas for my work at the most inopportune moments.”

“Hm,” he said. When he turned, Spencer imagined he murmured something along the lines of “You sure you're not into adult fiction?”, but of course, that was only her overactive imagination acting up.

“I look forward to your email tomorrow then,” she said with a smile when he finally stepped out on the hallway.

For a second he just smiled at her, a bit quizzically, a curious and mischievous gleam in his eyes sparkling briefly in the dimness of the doorway.

“I look forward to working for you. “

Spencer smiled and closed the door, and rested her forehead on the cool wood. Her heart thumped like crazy.


	6. Open Season

oOo

Saison D’Hiver

Ore Dock Brewing Company

_Looks nice, but hides an ugly secret..._

oOo

 

The little light on her phone blinked insistently, signalling Spencer still hadn’t dealt with that missed call from Selina. It was really a bother, but the longer she put it away, the worse it would fester. And she just knew she'd get a nice and long talking to for not calling back right away. 

Well, nothing like procrastinating to worsen the anxiety…

It was impossible to just get on with her life as if nothing happened. Granted, she only received a visit from her future contractor, but it felt somehow much more profound. As if she'd just met her long-lost soulmate. Or one of those faceless lovers from her dreams magically appeared in flesh, and a guise of an ordinary man. But there was nothing common about him, even though he seemed to want to blend in. His eyes were too striking, his posture too elegant, his attitude too confident. 

And the way she reacted to him, that, too, was something Spencer had to work through herself before she bared her thoughts to the keen ear of her agent, doubling as a friend. 

Sometimes, she could swear Selina was a fiend sent to torture her. Mostly with trips out shopping and evenings in bars. Of course, when it came down to work, Selina was deadly serious and keenly focused - if she judged it necessary. She was a panther on a prowl, but left to her own devices she transformed into a playful kitten. For Spencer, that playfulness meant everything from spending an evening out eating ice cream and getting smashed, to being a centre of some very well thought out pranks. Either way, it was exhausting in the long run, something which made relocating from busy city into her almost-hometown a bit more palatable. 

Mostly though, Spencer missed the snowy wilderness. Concrete jungle wasn't her jam at all, she needed walks on a trail through the forest, and skiing, and yachting and all those things she rarely actually did, but loved watching other people do. 

The phone buzzed yet again. This time, she gulped down her nervousness and picked up.

“What up?”

“That's my line. Nice to know you're still alive.”

“I thought that guy was vouched for by Aunt G.?”

“He was, but you never know with those types. An old lady is a different animal than a young one.”

“What am I to you, a gazelle? Or better yet, a cow?”

“I do milk you for ideas and get the cream after, so that metaphor isn't inadequate at all.” 

That brand of purr in Selina’s voice was usually reserved for Friday nights’ conquests, and inevitably made Spencer smile. She snorted into the receiver and went to the kitchen to finish her tea.

“I'm fine, the guy was fine. He even helped me when I knocked my head on the cupboard.”

“This does sound like something you'd do, Kitten. “

“Well, I'm glad you don't need a proof of me being alive, like a picture with today's paper or something.”

“Come to think of it...”

“Don't even start.”

“Speaking of, when can he get on with the job?”

“First days of December, or even end of this month, provided I accept the costs. It's going to eat all of my savings and vacation budget.”

“It's gonna be so worth it.”

Long suffering sigh escaped Spencer’s mouth before she thought better of it. Quality of life was important, and it did affect her work, so there was absolutely no point complaining over money to Selina. Especially since she knew a lot about Spencer’s finances anyway.

“I hope so,” she murmured in the end. 

As if reading her mind, Selina chuckled lightly to brighten the mood.

“You're just going to have to write some more Billie to get the reserve back.”

“I think I'm going to get back to pottery in between writing Billie and those thrillers.”

The confession was offhanded and half-realized. But it was stark and clear, and seemed perfectly reasonable.

_ Why didn’t I think of it earlier? _

Selina fell silent on the other side of the line.

“It's good you have something to fall back to,” she carefully measured her words.

“What, the sales of ‘Void Conquered’ aren't looking so great, huh?”

“They're fine. This book is good, and it will gain more traction soon. I'm negotiating mentioning it's written under a pseudonym to hint it’s not from a newcomer, and to add some mystery for a boost in publicity.”

“Won't that hurt Billie’s sales?”

“Shouldn't. A writer flexible enough to do more than one genre is a treasure. And we don’t have to reveal your identity right away.”

Spencer had her doubts, but Selina was a risk taker. So far it paid off.

“Anyway, I'm set on the spring time Billie and working on the next thriller.” 

_ And if that construction guy will be coming over I'll be whipping up a whole set of smut novels just to blow off some steam. _

“That's good. Will you be driving to Aunt G. for Thanksgiving?“

“Yeah, I should be there on Wednesday afternoon, to lend a hand in your stead.”

“Thanks so much. I would be there earlier but Wayne is in town and I have to catch him for a chat about you.”

“Sure.”

No point mentioning Spencer knew exactly that Selina’s tickets have been bought two months prior. It was her agent’s life, and Aunt Giselle had a soft spot for Spencer, so she never interfered too much into Selina’s family matters, even if she knew most of the friction points intimately. Not her place to comment, especially seeing how her own relatives were less than loosely tied together.

“Should I make that pie she likes? The chocolate one?”

“Oh yes, but don’t forget pretending it’s for me! She still can’t live it down that you bake this one thing better than her.”

“I’m the chocolate pie Bruce Lee.”

“Oh yes you are, my lovely gazelle!”

“Pfft, don’t call me that. It’s hunting season in here.”

“I sure hope so, Kitten,” Selina laughed, “For your sake I really do!”


	7. Smell of Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate my job rn. December is the worst.

 

oOo

Rockin’ Raspberry Wheat

Jasper Ridge Brewery

_ Homey and warming, like sweet berries melting the crisp snow outside _ . 

oOo

 

Aunt Giselle, or as Spencer pronounced to the endless amusement of Selina’s family, “Aent Gee”, was waiting on the porch of her little retreat in the woods. The house was hidden in the Wilderness State Park, just south of Mackinaw City, and a little over three hours’ drive from Marquette. If only it wasn’t under the bridge Spencer could even say the township was nice. The road wound down the lake shore, framed by the trees; lush pines and other conifers still vividly green, with lace of naked broadleaves cutting sharply out of the background of pale sky.

The last stretch was a sandy trail, cut in a straight line through the woods, with the house looming at the very end. Spencer knew there was a sensor in the gate she had to open to get onto the road, alerting the occupants of the house to any guests’ arrival. Still, it felt nice that they cared enough to go out into the November drizzle to welcome her. 

“Hey trolls, how’s it goin’?”

The greeting was met with displeased groans and warm hugs from both Gisele and her partner, Kevin. 

Spencer smiled down at the tiny woman, scrunching up her nose a bit with a fond smile when Giselle framed her face with warm palms. Skin on her hands was worn and wrinkled, but so unbelievably soft. 

“You look tired, honey.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well, but that’s about to change soon.”

“Mhm,” Giselle hummed and turned to get inside. The sound made Spencer frown at her back, confused over the implicit doubt. She looked at Kevin, cocking her head a bit in mute inquiry.

The man just shrugged, and opened the trunk of Spencer's car to get her suitcase. Meanwhile she got the pie from the front seat.

“Is it the chocolate one?” Kevin asked. 

Spencer had to smile. She just loved his voice, the velvety rumble with a hint of roughness from his age. Like a nice glass of whiskey, going down smooth, but leaving a smoky trail and leaving you gasping and shivering at the very end. 

It reminded her of Bane’s deep and slightly growling delivery. He was deceptively soft, but with obvious core of steel, just waiting to be tested... 

She made herself get out of her musings before they got too detailed. For two seconds she shook her head to physically clear it.

“The pie, Spence?” Kevin asked again, slightly concerned undertone edging his words.

“Yeah, it’s the one Giselle likes. Officially for Selina.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“She will figure it out anyway, eh?”

“Sure. But she appreciates the effort you two put in this little charade anyway.”

The house was small and warm, littered with books and handmade needlework. Upholstery on the couch didn't fit the one on any of the armchairs beside it, the coffee table was modern, while the TV sat on a mahogany cupboard with monkey ornaments. The pillows adorning every pillow-appropriate surface had crocheted sleeves, and blankets were actually all quilts. 

It was perfectly cozy.

Kevin went to leave the suitcase in the room Spencer would share with Selina and one of her two cousins, and the girl sauntered into the kitchen. Giselle was smoking a cigarette, looking pensively over at the trees, a steaming mug beside her on the counter.

“What's the plan for tonight?”

“Kev’s going fishing, we're having deer instead of turkey, there are two pies to be made and a veggie salad. The rest is for tomorrow.”

“Marcus and Becca coming soon?”

“They should be here in a couple of hours.”

“That's nice.“ She fussed for a while with fruit arranged in a bowl on the table. “You got any more coffee?”

Gisele snorted and went to pour Spencer a cup.

“So how are you gonna improve your sleep?” The woman inquired, placing the mug along with some biscuits before Spencer, and sitting opposite.

“Well, that construction crew you recommended will be fixing my walls. Soundproofing. So I could get more sleep and work in peace.”

Something in the little smile Giselle had on her face worried Spencer, but she brushed it off.

“You met that big bear yet?”

“Bane?” Just the memory of the man brought up some unwanted heat to her cheeks.

“Oh, you are not going to have a good night's rest for a while, huh?” Giselle smiled knowingly.

“Probably not.” Spencer admitted with a sheepish smile. “Have you seen the muscles on the man?”

“Muscles? That's nothing, his mouth is a masterpiece.”

“Oh, yeah… And his voice.”

“He's very capable with his hands as well, you know.”

_ Certainly looks like he's capable of many things. And reliable. So strong and powerful... _

A clicking of fingers by her ear made Spencer jump, spilling some of her coffee and yelping in surprise. 

“You're doing that again.”

The pointed look was more playful than scolding, but it still made Spencer bite her lip in embarrassment. The spacing out was getting out of hand lately.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Best we leave that subject for the evening when you can contemplate it safely over a glass of wine, eh?”

“Good idea.“ She nodded and slumped her shoulders in defeat. Who was she kidding, she would be daydreaming regardless of the time and place. “Just don't tell Selina anything, okay? She'll drag me and I'm in no mood for that.”

“Don't worry, honey. We’ll have a lovely chat tonight while Kevin is out fishing and that will be it.” Giselle assured her. She looked like someone in need of a sympathetic ear to bounce off some of her thoughts on the subject too.

“Sounds like a plan.“ Looking around, Spencer sighed and downed the remainder of her coffee. “So, what do we do first? Pie crust?”

They worked in relative silence, listening to the radio and idly chatting about nothing. When the pies finished baking Giselles kids arrived, and for a good quarter of an hour the house filled up with chatter and good-natured banter. 

Kevin came back with magnificent bounty of fish, and Giselle prepared dinner with her daughter Becca, ordering Spencer and the men to rest in the living room with a beer.

Spencer would never say no to a cold one, and she easily fell into an animated chat about local breweries. At the end of the night she was sporting a big smile, having snatched some of Kevin’s supply for her advent calendar.

“Is Selina coming tonight?” Becca asked, perching comfortably in the armchair beside Spencer, a mug of spiced tea in hands.

“Tomorrow. She had to catch a big fish to plead my case. Hence my help today. You know, repaying the debt.”

The woman smirked hearing that, and shook her head for good measure.

“She’s suffocating in here.”

“Selina is a city animal, that’s for sure.” Spencer measured her words carefully. “Also, she’s meeting Bruce Wayne. I don’t know about you, but I would postpone my plans to have a one-on-one with a guy like that.”

“Oh.” Judging by an impressed frown, that information did seem to settle some of Becca’s uneasiness. “I guess I would too. Although he seems a bit too big for my tastes.”

“Really? I’d say he’s not wide enough in his shoulders for me.”

“Well, it’s good to know we won’t be fighting over a man then,” Becca laughed.

Spencer chuckled too, but suddenly sobered.

“Oh, but I’d have to watch out for your mom. Seems like we have similar type, at least when it comes to contractors,” she whispered.

_ But then, do I have any chance with a guy like that? Doubtful. _

Thankfully, Becca missed the last sentence anyway, focusing on the television screen.

“Ugh, that awful commercial is on again.”

They both groaned in unison. It was indeed one of the worst coffee commercials ever.

 


	8. Of Birds and Beers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is another short chapter to get us nice and relaxed.
> 
> The real fun will start tomorrow! Guess who will make an appearance...

oOo

Blastin’ Blueberry Wheat

Jasper Ridge Brewery

_ Slightly hazy, a tad too sweet, but soon enough turns quite tart and dry. _

oOo

 

NBC was on, the football game playing into the void of lethargic living room. Kevin was quietly snoring on the couch, Giselle chatted with Selina’s cousin Rebecca, while her brother Marcus disappeared somewhere to talk on the phone with his homies. Spencer sipped wine leftover from dinner and thought of nothing at all. That blissful state of fullness overcame her, inertia pleasant only while it lasted. She knew that any unnecessary movement would shatter the precarious balance of overstuffed belly and her curled position in the armchair. That’s why she only moistened her lips with the wine, enough to keep the buzz going, but not too much for fear of tipping the scales in favor of nausea. 

And then Selina came back from her short walk outside.

“Just talked to Bruce,” she announced, “and he says that if your thriller does well, he’ll sign a contract for two more.“

_ Good thing she doesn’t know about my secret draft of an erotic novel. _

Spencer smiled at the thought, catching a surprised glance from her agent.

“Good thing that I already started the next one,” she said instead.

“I know, right?” Selina winked. 

_ Wait, that is not a good sign. _

“You are plotting something.”

“Come on Kitten, when did I ever?”

“Ooooh, you are so plotting something.”

“I told him you make fantastic impression in person, and he said, no don’t groan! He said he’ll be delighted to meet you should an opportunity present itself.” She leaned in and patted Spencer’s thigh. “Delighted, Kitten.”

_ Opportunities are created, and Selina is the most creative opportunity maker ever... _

And just like that the balance was shattered, Spencer’s stomach cramping in trepidation. 

“What the hell did you tell him about me?”

The nervousness brought out her old accent and it all sounded like a slurred together “d’ja tell ‘im ‘bou ‘me”. Except for the first part, which was delivered with the perfect elocution magically granted to all curses and blunders.

“Whoa Spence, are you drunk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You sound like you are.”

“That’s just the way I talk like.”

“Sure, Kitten.”

For a while they both pretended to watch the commercials. 

“Those new ads are awful,” Selina remarked.

“I thought you like those short flashes of the product?”

“Not while it’s shoved down peoples throat like that. The game is squeezed into that tiny window. And we still get the commercial block anyway.”

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed her agreement, then nodded sagely and focused on watching the play.

All the while she was ready to burst in seams from worry. And maybe in a tiny bit from copious amounts of food in her belly. But mostly from anxiety.

“No, but seriously, don’t bring Wayne to see me, okay?” She whined just to make her point as clear as vodka.

“He’s way too busy to go anywhere where you hang out at.”

“Good.” A long and shuddering breath escaped her then. “D’ja think Aent Gee has mo’e of tha’ pie?”

“Now you’re just showing off!” Selina laughed. “Let’s see!”

The kitchen was warm and smelled of roasted meat and coffee. The women at the table stopped their chitchat when they saw Selina and Spencer approaching, and smiled up at them both. 

“We had to run, the Folger’s incest commercial was on,” Spencer joked, sauntering over to the cabinet with the dishes. 

“Aunt G., is there any more of your pumpkin pie for Spence?”

“Nope.”

Certain of the positive answer, Spencer was already taking out a plate. She froze awkwardly with her hand still above her head.

“Say what?”

“I know what’s good for you. You need a healthy diet and a warm bed.”

“A healthy diet,” Spence echoed disappointedly, putting back the dish.

“A warm bed?” Selina asked incredulously. Then she grinned. “Warmed by whom?” She clicked her tongue a few times, the light sound tensing Spencer’s muscles with each light flick of muscle over teeth.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“No I’m not,” Spencer rushed. Her cheeks warmed traitorously and she tried not to look too guilty. To no avail.

“You said that contractor was ‘fine’. Just how ‘fine’ is your ‘fine’, huh?”

Before Spencer could reply, Giselle cut in with her brows waggling pretty suggestively.

“Goddamn mouthwatering fine, honey!” 

All three young women gasped with their mouth wide open.

“Auntie G.!”

“Mom!”

“Oh, fuck!”

The woman laughed heartily, rising her coffee cup in a mock toast to Spencer.

“Hold your horses girl, you’ll come to that…”

They all chuckled at that and after some coercing, Spencer agreed to sit and talk of her first encounter with Bane. Mostly because Selina teased her mercilessly about it.

“Spence lost her head when she saw him!”

“I can’t blame her.”

“I did not lose anything. I bumped my head on the cupboard. I was making tea and he startled me.”

“Oh, did he bump on you from behind?” 

“Mom, she just met him that day,” Becca chimed in, obviously a tad unpleasant with the route her mother was taking the conversation in.

“You haven’t seen him,” Spencer said, her eyes glassy.

“Or heard him,” Giselle added.

“Oh yeah…”

“Kitten, don’t lose your cool.” Selina’s voice was full of warm warning, more a reminder than a scolding.

“Pfft, when was I ever cool?”

“Not when you saw the Big Bad Bear!” Giselle giggled again, making Spencer wonder what else than coffee could be in her cup.

_ Would she give me some if I asked politely? _

“Shouldn’t that be the wolf?”

“No, his company is called ‘Little Bear Contractors’.”

“That’s a weird name for a construction company.”

“And he looks nothing like your typical Bob the Builder.”

“That depends on what porn you watch…”

“Selina, get that filth out of here.”

“Yes, Selina, that was distasteful,” Spencer blew a raspberry and showed her tongue.

“Someone had too much red wine,” Selina noted, pointing a finger at her face.

“Not me,” she grumbled in protest. 

“Yes, you. Now, it’s your bedtime, say ‘goodnight’ and let me tuck you in.”

Spencer made a face, but she felt the drowsiness settle in her bones. All the eating and drinking, and the never ending football and commercials did their job.

“Okay. Goodnight,” she stood up and bent over the table to kiss Giselle’s cheek. Then she shuffled over to hug Rebecca, and let Selina help her upstairs.

“I can walk, you know.”

“I know. I like to take care of you.”

“That’s nice.” 

Spencer let Selina help her into the bathroom, then she begrudgingly set to brush her teeth, watching as her friend prepared the cleansing wipes nearby.

“You’re a good friend,” she drooled out along with foaming toothpaste.

“And you look like a rabid dog, Kitten.” Selina chuckled. “Shower in the morning, just get the makeup off and go to bed, okay?”

Nodding, Spencer focused on applying even and steady pressure to the toothbrush. Round and round it went, then up and down. She gagged a bit while cleaning her tongue off the purplish film from the wine.

“If you want to get that guy, you have to work on your gag reflex, you know.”

“Eww, Selina. Just eww. I can give a decent blowjob, fuck you very much.”

“Just sayin’...”

The light-hearted banter was refreshing, but the topic itself unwelcome. 

_ Time to change the game. _

“So why are you always on about Wayne? Plotting to become a full-time house ornament?”

“I’m looking out for you, Kitten,” Selina said haughtily, somehow managing to sound and look refined even with the toothbrush shoved halfway into her mouth. She looked like she had molars at the depth most people had their tonsils.

“Sure you are. Did you have to endure any late night dinners on my behalf?”

“Oh, I am sacrificing so much for you.”

“And perhaps, even some quick morning power meetings?”

“You sould be thankful I am scanting on my own sleep to make way for you!”

“Remind me never to take any romantic advice from you.” 

She didn’t see Selina's reaction, her eyes covered with the wipes. It was not her business anyway; if Selina wanted to sleep with a guy, it was her decision. Even if said guy held both their futures and livelihood in his hands, Spencer would not judge. A heart wanted what it needed. And sometimes other parts of body dictated their terms too, and a wise woman would always listen to them all, equally.

The wistful pensiveness in Selina's eyes startled Spencer when she took down the cloth from her face. The agent was obviously thinking hard over something, and it didn’t seem to be easy, nor pleasant.

Pretending she didn’t see anything was effortless, easy like just averting her gaze. Nevertheless, Spencer kept observing her friend in the mirror.

“Hey, what are you going to do for Christmas, since Aunt G. goes away?”

“I’ll stay in Chicago. Why, are you planning on making a celebration?”

That was their own little private joke. Spencer did not celebrate any religious holiday, ever. 

“I decided to make myself an advent calendar, so who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a tree this year.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. And you know what is in my calendar?” She didn’t make the pause long enough, but the impact was still there when she leaned in to gleefully say, “Beer!”

Selina chased her out of the bathroom and into their room with cries of ‘godless alcoholic writers who are up to no good’.

Kevin shouted from downstairs to keep it down.

All in all, Spencer fell asleep with a smile, after an hour-long session of chatting in the dark until they both were too exhausted to keep their eyes open. 

It was a nice Thanksgiving, and she had something good to look forward to in the coming month.

And for once, it was so blissfully quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to get up at 6, be at the office an hour earlier, at 8; and for some unexplained reason I never stirred at the alarm in the morning. Very shitty beginning of the day. But then, I read @kitsuhime Dragon Age story, and felt much better. So I very much hope that this little chapter helped someone get through the day, the same way reading other stories help me. :)   
> Also, I think you guys will love tomorrow's chapter! 


	9. Take Down My Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hope you'll enjoy the image of working Bane!

oOo

Battle Stag American Strong Ale

Blackrocks Brewery

_ Regal, but mild. Consternation followed by delight. _

oOo

  
  


She woke up at six and couldn’t contain herself with excitement. All of her things were either packed in a suitcase or stashed neatly in cardboard boxes at a storage unit. Save for her bed, but that was to be thrown out anyway. The boxes with Nana’s stuff were in a storage unit as well, along with the paintings. 

Both rooms looked enormous, making Spencer doubt her decision to remodel. But, it was for the better, she told herself with a resolute, affirming nod. Clean start and promise of quiet evenings were like a provision in a will her grandma never made. After all, some of her funds were the leftover inheritance money. Not much, but still enough to count.

_ I'm pretty lucky. _

Stomach knotted in anticipation, she barely managed a bite of breakfast. Eventually, fed up with her own fidgeting, Spencer perched onto the kitchen windowsill and sipped her tea, chamomile and lemon balm, to help her relax while waiting. There were so many things she could be doing, like working, but her whole being was coiled in suspense. 

Which was really stupid, since she knew exactly when the crew would show up.

Sure enough, at exactly five to eight two trucks rolled by and turned to park at the lot behind her building. Barefoot, she padded to the entrance and unlocked the door, then ran back to the living room to get her slippers, then back to the door again. Two calming breaths and she was ready.

_ You can do it, girl! _

The doorbell rang and Spencer nearly jumped out of her skin.

_ Okay, maybe not… _

She opened without asking who it was and stared.

“Good morning, Ms. P.”

“Oh, um, hi,” she smiled weakly and reared back to make way, all the time glancing up at Bane. “That’s a nice beard you’re sporting.” 

He must have not shaved since she saw him last, for almost two weeks. It suited him, shade on his jaw granting his whole silhouette a rugged and dangerous air.

“Thank you.”

_ Fun-fucking-tastic Spencer. Way to go. _

“Did you grow it out to match your pals?”

Someone openly snickered behind Bane’s broad back and he turned, unamused, to measure one of his men with a level stare. 

“I’m supposed to be Santa for Christmas.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

_ Shame to cover those sinful lips, but maybe it’s for the better. Less distracting. Yes, definitely less distracting that way. _

“When you’re done spacing out I could introduce my men.”

“I have no idea what are you talking about,” she said, giving him her best haughty upper class tone, complete with an arched eyebrow and a slight puff of air out her nostrils. No trace of the UP accent she once sported proudly. Sidestepping Bane, she smiled benevolently towards the crew. “Hello gentlemen.”

A pointed glare had Bane’s budding beard shift a bit, in what Spencer believed was a smile. Her heart actually skipped a bit.

_ It’s so fucking unfair. _

The group was small. Snickering man was the foreman, John, or rather Barsad, since they called him by his surname. Then a bulky guy, shorter than Bane but just as broad, Trogg. And a lanky eye-candy, James. They said their greetings, and she awkwardly gestured towards the corridor. 

“It’s all yours. Make yourself at home, yadda yadda. I’ll be staying in the living room, since I work from home.”

“Sure thing **,** Ms. P.” Barsad drawled. “Let us get right into it.”

Spencer smiled and turned to sit at the windowsill in the kitchen again.

_ Did I imagine Bane growling? _

She shook her head in slight disbelief.

_ Impossible. _

Listening to the crew took out most of her morning. She couldn’t focus on working while they went in and out, bringing supplies, measuring, joking and eventually - smashing through the walls. She did venture once to look, but very promptly turned around to her safe shelter of the couch. Bane and Trogg were in charge of the demo, and they didn’t use those big electric monstrosities that had to be powered with an engine of its own. Instead they opted for an old fashioned elbow grease and hammers, smashing the wall solely with the strength of their muscles and conviction they could do it. 

Spencer froze for five seconds in the doorway, her left hand still holding up the veil of crinkly see-through foil. She bit her lower lip, sighed and nearly moaned when Bane groaned out with a particularly hard swing. 

For some stupid reason he didn’t take his t-shirt off to work; the cotton wet with perspiration clung to his muscles. He was indeed powerful. Not chiseled like underwear models, not afraid to have some fat tissue around like bodybuilders. Robust stomach was obviously rock hard, but wasn’t totally flat. His muscles worked with every swing, contracting and releasing, pectorals bulging with every downswing. The dust from demolition flew around in a thin cloud, settling on light hair on his forearms, matting his dark slacks.  

And he had a mask on, and a pair of safety glasses to shield him from the debris. The only visible parts of his face were his forehead and eyebrows, both scrunched up in concentration.

After one demanding thrust Bane stepped back for a moment, chest heaving, one hand resting on the thick handle of the hammer, the other raised to rub some off the sweat off his head. Spencer noticed how veins bulged under his skin, vivid welts of pure life coursing with vitality and fervor, and she couldn’t hold back a little whimper.

_ What brand of torture is this? _

Then she registered a slight snicker coming from behind the foil and she gulped down once, then twice to moisten her parched throat. Tongue running carefully over suddenly all too sensitive lips, bitten nearly raw, had her holding back another moan. Only after a while could she turn to Barsad to ask if they wanted any tea.

She avoided looking at Bane who just turned her way at the sound of her question. His breathing was still a bit laboured.

_ Two weeks of this. Two whole goddamn weeks. Fourteen days. Fuck! _

She made a pot of simple black tea in record time and left it by the entrance on a tray, like an offering to some ancient gods toiling away in a workshop over some crafts not fit to be seen by mere mortals.

Pretending to work was easy, she just sat on the couch with her laptop on her knees, staring into the wall. Should anyone ask she was looking for words, that excuse worked every time. Also, she could say she was mulling over an especially difficult scene, which was not a lie, since Billie had to make her first appearance in the story. 

That was a difficult thing to put on paper - the very beginning of a book.

It only mildly surprised her that she didn't hear Bane walking over. One minute she was contemplating shadows beneath a shelf, and maybe even the need to repaint the wall there, and in the other she had Bane's palm waving before her eyes to grab her attention. As luck would have it, in that very moment something shifted in the tissue of the universe and somehow she managed to lose her balance. That required quite a lot of talent, to suddenly wobble in her seat, after hours of staying comfortably in place, but she managed to achieve that feat. 

The world tilted, laptop shifted down her knees and she yelped.

There was no thump of metal on the floor, nor did she hit the wood herself. Instead, her hand reflexively grabbed onto a straining shoulder, her side moulded to a powerful chest, while she felt one muscular arm holding her steady. 

She sucked in a breath to steady her nerves. A mistake. The smell of dust was strong, but it couldn't overpower the natural fragrance of slightly sweaty skin, something chemical cutting through and then a touch of sweetness she couldn't place. It didn't fit the puzzle, but there was no time for further evaluation of Bane’s smell - she was practically hanging on him, holding on for dear life on his shoulder. 

A delicate nudge was enough for him to set her securely back straight on the couch. Spencer smiled down at her computer when he gently slid it into her hands.

“I've startled you again, I apologize.“

“Nonsense,“ she replied automatically.  “I spaced out.”

“Yes, that does seem to happen to you quite often, doesn't it?”

_ Well, fuck you, mister! _

“What did you want?” she deflected. So what if she daydreamed now and then?

“We're going to get the rubble out and be done for now. A short workday, but we'll have a better start tomorrow. I need a shower, anyway.”

“Oh, you can use mine.“

“Thank you, but that won't be necessary.”

_ Yeah Spence, just fucking drop your pants, that should be a sufficient hint. Way subtler than this anyway.  _

“You guys don't eat on the job?” she asked just to mask her embarrassment. 

“Did you space out for so long that you didn't notice us going out?” he asked in a distinctly amused tone. 

Her expression shifted into horrified realization. 

“No, I'm pulling your leg, don't worry. We usually order something to be delivered, but since it's a shorter job today we decided it's best to squeeze in as much work as possible. The tea was much appreciated though.”

“That's nice to hear.“ Suppressing sudden urge to press her palm to his chest, she gripped the laptop and smiled up shyly. “So, you'll be back tomorrow morning, eh?”

“That's right. You have the rest of the day for yourself and your brooding.” 

The joke made her incline her head down in slight embarrassment. She wasn't exactly planning on being quiet or indeed stationary when they would go away. Quite the opposite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment, subscribe, bookmark and click that little heart!


	10. That Electric Feeling

oOo

Pick-Axe Blonde Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Clear and straightforward, greatly improved with a meal. _

oOo

 

It was odd having strangers walking around her house. At first the construction crew seemed as awkward as her, sneaking to and from the bathroom, the kitchen, the front door. She was perched in the middle of the apartment on a couch, laptop on her knees and a mug of tea at hand. No one disturbed her, no one engaged in any kind of conversation unless she started it. They passed as if there was a wall between them. Spencer stayed in her spot following them with her eyes at most. 

Well, Barsad still snickered and winked at her, but she wasn’t sure just yet how to interpret his behaviour.

The work, after the first day, was surprisingly silent and admirably well-organized. Bane worked with his men, lending his considerable height and strength to further the tasks with efficiency worthy of an android. After the demolition on day one they set on taking down lighter fixtures, cleaning the walls off of drywall and exposing the wiring.

Bane’s sleepy eyed foreman did venture out at one point, bringing back bags of styrofoam containers and a welcoming whiff of middle-eastern cuisine.

Spencer felt her stomach knot in a sympathetic cramp. She forgot to eat all day yesterday. Absorbed in pretending she didn't pay any attention to the workers, somehow she managed to spew out some thirty pages of text. Not bad at all, provided it would be comprehensible. She couldn't remember a word, and she was supposed to work on Billie, not on another thriller. 

Today was not much better.

With a sigh she strolled to the kitchen to inspect the contents of her fridge. Mustard, mayo, ketchup, some partly dried out sliced cheese and butter. She sighed again. Freezer was more accommodating, with two cups of frozen cream of mushroom soup and some meat ragu in portions.

“Pasta it is,” she murmured to no one in particular, resigned to her fate. 

Fifteen minutes later she was perched on the windowsill, vividly green bowl with her meal in hands, observing the park on the other side of the road. 

“Excuse me.“ Rumbling voice caught her off guard, just when she was slurping in a ribbon of tagliatelle. She didn't suck hard enough, startled, and reflexively brushed in stray sauce and pasta with quick stroke of her tongue. Inelegant. Chewing the food, she sent Bane a questioning look.

“I hope we didn't disturb your work.”

“You're surprisingly silent, really, so no worries. What is it?”

“There is a problem with wiring on the ceiling. I will be needing additional resources to complete the design you requested. I may have an alternative, using existing network with minimal changes. If you'll approve of my idea.”

“Sure, let's take a look,” she said. Before she could shift to move down the windowsill, he raised his hand with a smile.

“It's not that urgent. Finish your lunch please, I'll wait.”

“I really don't have anything better to do,” she confessed, her conspiratorial tone openly teasing. 

She was delighted to see him smile.

“I'll make myself tea and keep you company then, if you don't mind.”

“Sure, be my guest,“ she smirked, tucking back into her pasta. 

“It's imperative to maintain regular intervals between meals,“ he explained. 

It was oddly comforting to Spencer, seeing this big and burly man navigating her kitchen with ease, delicately assembling everything he needed for a good cup of tea. Or two, since she noticed he prepared twin mugs, her favorite pair of unglazed anthracite gray clay with bright yellow insides. 

Granted, most things were plain to see or in obvious places, but still he looked deceptively at home making their drinks.

How long since she had a man living with her? 

“I'm never concerned about that,” she said in response to his last sentence, because she wanted to hear more of his voice. 

Bane narrowed his eyes with a frown, propping on his hip on a counter by the stove, hands folded over his chest, waiting for the water to boil. The position only accentuated his build.

“That is unwise. Proper nutrition is key to healthy body and mind.”

“I guess you could say that this,” she raised the bowl a bit, “is too fattening?“

“What's that, bolognese?“

She hummed, nodding, while she chewed through another mouthful.

“Portion size seems reasonable, given your height and weight, also I gather you prepared it from scratch, save for the pasta?”

“Even the pasta,” she corrected.

He gave her an appeasing, excessive frown, his sinful lips twisted into an upside-down ‘U’.

“It seems appropriate. You could cut on carbs if you'd switch to whole grain.”

“No way. It tastes like cardboard.”

“That it does,“ Bane smiled. “However, you could still mitigate the additional carbohydrate intake with some exercise later on.”

The kettle whistled and he silenced the sound raising it over the flame before he extinguished it. He poured the water with concentration visible in his eyes, as if the task required any thought at all. 

Spencer swooped down, and stood by the sink to wash the bowl. Meanwhile Bane watched as the tea steeped in a glass pot, delicate leaves slowly unfurling from tight curls they were previously contorted in. 

“I hope you don't mind me perusing your stash of tea so freely.” 

“Of course not, why would I?” she asked, incredulous.

He watched her straighten out the tea towel she used to dry her hands, then shook his head a bit and turned back to the pot. 

“It's an impressive collection. I'm sure some of those blends are difficult to obtain.”

“Only a few. But, if the tea is not enjoyed, what's the point of buying it?“

“Indeed.“

“This looks about ready,“ she noted.

He nodded and poured the oolong into the cups, the same one she prepared for him when they first met. Delicate and fragrant aroma rose with steam towards the ceiling. 

“Shall we?”

He inclined his head in a little bow, prompting her to lead the way. Spencer started towards the entrance, wishing her kitchen would be a tad more narrow or cramped. She had an overwhelming urge to rub on him, like a cat, as she went.

Ridiculous, of course.

Mugs in hand they scaled the corridor. The crew was finishing the break, lazily gathering emptied boxes from the lunch, chatting over last bites. Spencer smiled again when they turned their heads towards her, Bane looming closely behind.

“Two minutes,“ he said. 

All nodded and wordlessly moved out. The foreman shot Spencer a look she couldn't decipher. He hung out by the entrance, leaving a few hushed words with Bane before he too went away. 

_ They are all oddly soft spoken. _

“What I had in mind here is this,” Bane said, pulling her out if her musings, “Instead of an overhanging bar here, right above the bed, we could make two clusters on each side here.” He produced blue chalk and marked the spots with short and sure scratches of the stick. “That way you won't have the lamp hanging too low over your head. Especially with added height from the bed and the steps. As it happens, this part of the ceiling is housing a construction beam that can't be disturbed, so to achieve what you had in mind previously we'd have to lower the ceiling, further shrinking the space for the lamp. Perhaps a very flat one could work here.”

“Damn, I already picked the hanging one.“ She looked to the sides, measuring where Bane sketched new position of the lights. “I'll have to look again then, since there's no choice really with the ceiling. I'd hate to have a guest crank his head when getting up.”

She grinned, and immediately blushed. 

What the hell prompted her to say that?

“That would have to be a pretty tall guest,” Bane murmured blandly.

“Or I could be in danger while, um, exercising.”

_ Oh fucking fantastic Spence, keep dropping hints like a buck dropping shit. _

He sputtered into his drink, the swig he was taking when she started speaking ending up in a puddle on the floor. Spencer was surprised to be on the receiving end of a suddenly outraged stare. 

“What?”

Bane recovered pretty fast, his face again a solid slab of indifference. He seemed to ignore her question and the double meaning of the activity he himself suggested back in the kitchen.

But now she knew something was lurking behind his facade of indifference.

“I can help you with acquiring new lamps. Show me what you’ve chosen originally, tomorrow I'll take you to a place where they have similar things.”

A snort behind him heralded return of the crew led by the foreman. The man exchanged a cryptical look with Bane again. This time, Spencer had a slightly better idea what it might have conveyed. 

“Okay, if you don't mind, that would be a tremendous help.“ She smiled and sipped her oolong, looking up pensively. “After all, we'd hate for anyone to sustain an injury in the bedroom.”

The foreman chortled again.

“Are you unwell, brother?” Bane asked, tone implying that if he wasn't ill now he could be - very, very soon.

“I'm good. Back to work?”

“Oh, I'm in your way,” Spencer smiled and sauntered away. “So, Mr Bane, would you like to see the lamp design now, or after you've finished for the day?”

“After, if it is all the same to you, Ms P.”

“Of course.”

She could swear she heard another snort as she left, followed with a loud thump. 

_ Well, well, well… _

oOo


	11. Davenport Investigation

oOo

Stone Ship Stout

Brickside Brewery

_Dense and rocky, floats pretty well despite obvious setbacks._

oOo

 

After lunch Spencer sat down with a blue notebook and her favorite pen. It was time to work on the next Billie book. Like really get down to it and put actual words on paper, blue ink on creamy pages.

She refused to write any explicitly Christmas-themed stories, or anything even slightly religious for that matter, but Selina insisted they would need something for Easter. For Thanksgiving and Christmas Spencer with a stroke of genius prepared a book on good table manners. That went down astonishingly well, they were on their second reprint already.

But what neutral subject paired well with Jewish and Christian holiday?

Her mind jumped back to the talk with Bane in the kitchen. A broad grin crept on her lips. But of course. She lived the worst holiday problem just a week prior.

_Overeating._

She scribbled pensively, frowning over every word, counting syllables to achieve the perfect rhythm. No one believed she could make a children's book in iambic pentameter and sell it. And once again, her persistence showed that yes, there were still people who prized the old fashioned and traditional values.

Fuck tooth-achingly sweet Teletubbies or absurdly abstract Booh-Bah.

The work absorbed her completely; tedious task of finding the perfect combination of impact and semantics to weave and hide into the simple story, to bring up the moral in a way that would make all readers, young and old alike, raise their eyebrows and hum in wonder. The idea that she could influence people's outlook on ostensibly obvious problems was intoxicating. She helped shaping future generations, and felt the responsibility for her every word to be perfectly placed, every sentence masterfully crafted.

She was sitting cross legged with her face hidden behind palms, leaving only slits of spaces between her fingers to look at the notebook. There was a passage she hated, but didn’t yet have an idea on how to mend it.

“Ms P.?”

“Oh, sorry. What is it?”

Bane was standing by, a different shirt and new pair of pants on his body.

_So he changed out of those dusty clothes. In my apartment. Just a few short feet away..._

“We’re done for the day.”

“That's good, yeah. That’s nice.”

“You were supposed to show me the lamp design. We could do this tomorrow if you're occupied now, and go for the replacement on Friday.”

“No need, I’m done here anyway. Billie is giving me pains today and I honestly just want her to eat that fucking bird who pretends to be her friend.” She grumbled more to herself than to Bane, and spitefully closed the laptop.

_Stupid fucking avian cunt._

She huffed a frustrated sigh and remembered she wasn’t alone.

“Sorry, those are some characters from my books.”

“I am familiar with Billie the Crocodile and Andy the Bird.”

She looked up astonished to hear his amused chuckle.

“You are?”

“My nephew likes your work. The last tale was a big help at our Thanksgiving table.”

Spencer nearly shrieked in delight.

“Really? That’s the best thing to hear, honestly! I mean, I read the reviews and I know what people say online, but to meet someone who actually found Billie useful! That’s better than anything.”

“Don’t you meet your readers during promotion?”

“I’m not too keen on that. I mean, the promoting, not meeting readers. When they make me go I do, and have fun, but if it’s not necessary I’d rather stay at home.”

“I see.”

She stared dumbfounded at his easy smile.

_If not for that stupid beard..._

“On to the lamp, then?”

Spencer nodded and patted absentmindedly on the couch cushion beside her. She opened her laptop and caught a slight snort from Bane.

_Oh, that was a rather condescending move. Or too familiar, perhaps?_

Her cheeks reddened but she determinedly inserted the password and waited for the computer to boot again. Bane sat beside, his weight making her shift towards him with a surprised puff of air. For a second she contemplated cuddling to the mass of warm muscle, his body radiating strength and comfort.

_Get yourself together woman, don’t be so desperate._

Hastily, she righted herself, mumbling an apology and keeping her eyes glued to the screen. Her cheeks still burned.

“My bad, I didn’t anticipate how soft those cushions are.”

_Did he just mock me?_

Spencer hummed in understanding and clicked on all the folders she needed to get into to find her bedroom chandelier. When the photo opened, she turned the screen towards Bane.

“This is what I had in mind,” she said.

He cocked his head to the side a bit, and frowned noting the details of the piece.

Spencer in turn tensed when she grew aware of his muscular arm at the backrest of the couch. Right behind her. So close, she could cuddle to him, if she moved back to the sloping spot beside his thigh.

_Was that on purpose?_

Admittedly, her couch wasn’t the biggest. With Bane’s size it was more like a loveseat, even though it was long enough to accommodate Spencer for sleeping if she dozed off watching a movie. But numerous cushions ate up most of the space, so the actual seating was little more than two people wide.

“I had three shops in mind, but I see we will only have to visit one.” Bane's voice washed over her in a buttery murmur, his pensive and sceptic gaze still on the screen. “I will pick you up at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow, and we’ll be finished around noon. The crew will have a day off anyway, since we have to let the binding agent sit and harden.”

“Okay,” she croaked out, trying not to whine when he stood up. The absence of his broad frame beside her created a vacuum of cold space, and she shivered a bit. Then she sighed, exasperated, when her neighbours started their nightly ritual.

_So, it was eight already…_

Bane chuckled and shook his head.

“Your boyfriend must be a patient man,” he noted, going to the entrance to gather his jacket off the rack.

Spencer frowned and bit her lip.

_Okay, now he was definitely fishing for information. Right? So the arm thing was on purpose after all?_

“I’m the only one who has to endure this racket, I’m afraid.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he chuckled.

_Now that was definitely *something*!_

“See you tomorrow, Ms P.,” he threw over his shoulder as he went out the door.

_Right, the lamp._


	12. Advice Hotline

oOo

Lift Bridge Brown Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Joins two parts that are truly separate, but only make sense together. _

oOo

 

“Fuck!” Spencer sighed, whining out the “u” for good measure. She patted her reddened cheeks and slipped fingers through her hair and turned around a few times. No way was she  going to sleep now, not even if there wasn’t a porno extravaganza right by her bedroom wall. 

That guy was everything she ever wanted in a man, and more. Like her deepest and sultriest fantasy made to order, wrapped in a bow, then delivered right to her doorstep. Quite literally. His voice was intoxicating, his mind sharp, body looked more than capable of doing anything he set on doing…

_ I wish he'd go ahead and do me. _

She shook her head at the last thought. The prolonged dry spell was making her desperate. Pathetic. She needed to regain her coolness. For once in her unexciting life, she needed romantic advice.

The phone rang only for two short seconds before Selina picked up.

“What’s the matter, what is wrong?” Her voice was a bit breathless and panicked.

“Um, hi. Nothing is wrong, I’m just calling you to ask-”

“Nothing is wrong?” Selina cut in. “But you never call me, Spence.”

“I just did.”

“Something happened.”

“You could say that, and that-”

“Ha, I knew it!”

Shoulders slumped Spencer closed her eyes and counted in her head to ten.

“Spence?”

“Yes, Selina?”

“I’m listening now. What’s up?”

“That construction crew-”

“Oh my God, are they obnoxious? Aunt G. swore by them, she told me they were the fastest and most polite crew ever. But then you never know with those types...”

“No, it’s not that. They are really nice and quiet, and I think they work okay.”

“Oh?” There was a tremor in Selina’s voice that told Spencer all she needed to know. Once the danger was out of the equation, the only possible option was obvious. “Someone really did caught your eye!”

_ Well, that’s no secret... _

“Yeah.”

“That’s fantastic!”

“I thought that’s creepy. I’m actually swooning over one of the construction guys.”

“Well, it certainly is a bit dubious, but you could just pretend you’re on a set of a-”

“Please stop.” Spencer rushed in before the idea of a lurid scene where Bane’s utility belt was the only thing on his hips lodged itself fully into her brain.

_ Well, too late. _

“Okay, so you like a guy, and he works for you.”

“And he knows Billy, and he is built like a brick wall.”

Her voice gained the unmistakable dreamy quality.

“Oh, Kitten, you got it good.”

“That’s actually the main guy, the owner of the company. Did you know his actual surname really is Bane? I mean, who lives with a name like that?”

“Are you sure you’re not on the set of a porno?”

“Ha, ha, ha. I’m laughing my ass off.” Spencer deadpanned.

“I’ll stop, if you tell me why you decided to call me out of the blue.”

“There’s this thing. The lamp I chose for the bedroom has to be changed. Bane said he will take me to a shop where I could find something suitable. Tomorrow morning.”

“And?”

“Tonight when we talked it over he casually sat with his arm behind my back. And he asked if my boyfriend doesn’t mind the noise.”

“Oh, really?”

“So I was thinking, is it just me, or could he maybe be, I don’t know,” her voice grew small and squeaked a bit. “Interested in me? What do you think?”

“Well, Kitten,” Selina purred into the microphone, “that’s certainly something. Not enough information to gauge what exactly his intentions are, but something is definitely there.”

_ That wasn’t very helpful. _

“So, any advice before tomorrow?”

“Wear something cute. You don’t want to come across as slutty, but it would be good to put some effort in. Just in case.”

“I think I know what you mean…”

She had just the thing for the occasion in her closet.

“Also, is that the same person you and auntie were swooning over during Thanksgiving?”

“Perhaps,” Spencer tried to sound matter-of-factly, but to no avail. 

“So he does look as good as he sounds?”

“Better!” the word was practically moaned out. “It's so unfair, he has those lips, and his eyes are so sharp, and his whole attitude is just… Ugh, I barely can hold myself together when he's around.”

“I don't know if I like him, you forget all your words. That's your livelihood, Kitten.”

“I just have to get him out of my system, I guess,” Spencer admitted begrudgingly. 

“You do that. But be careful and let me know if anything seems off, okay?”

“Yes, Mom…”

“I'm serious, Spencer. You don't really know the guy, and even a recommendation from my aunt is not enough to trust him completely. Text me where he's taking you tomorrow, and keep location on your phone activated.”

“I'll be sure to report everything that happens on my davenport and beyond, don't you worry.”

“I'm being serious.”

“I know, I know. I promise to be good.”

“Well, let's not be too prudish. You can be a little naughty, and Mama Selina won't be too mad.”

Spencer laughed at this, the idea of doing something improper with Bane getting into her head like a bullet into a buck. 

_ What will tomorrow bring? _

oOo


	13. The Lampmaker

 

oOo

Blame It On The Foreigner Pale Ale

Red Jacket Brewing Company

_Don’t be fooled! Seems like nothing at all, but packs quite a punch!_

oOo

 

Spencer got up at six again, surprising herself with how excited and rested she felt. She tried not to work herself up but the preparations were a bit overwhelming. She changed her hairdo three times before deciding on timid twin braids resting in loose ropes on her shoulders. Not knowing where exactly Bane would take her, and how far for that matter, she opted for the comfortable outfit option - tight fitting pants, black leather boots with some  warming layer made of sheepskin, and a navy blue parka. Underneath she had a sweater with a very deep neckline, knitted loosely enough to show her undershirt. Warm and comfortable, but with lace and silk peeking out, hinting at the treasures hidden beneath. She thought it was okay. Last, she had her favourite scarf on, a ridiculously expensive piece of grey cashmere, but the warmest and fuzziest she ever had. It worked nicely to accentuate the colour of her hair and eyes, both distinct and vivid in comparison.

Bane honked when he drove before her house, and Spencer hurriedly trotted out as soon as she saw him through the window. Then, she turned and went to close her door. Then she jogged towards him, but again she had to go back all the way to her apartment for her purse.

Finally, she plopped down on the passenger seat, flushed with embarrassment.

“Mornin’.”

“Hi, sorry for the delay,” she mumbled.

“It’s okay.”

Before he started the car, Bane gave her a cup. Spencer blinked, surprised, automatically taking it from him when she fastened her seatbelt.

“What is it?” She asked stupidly. It was a white Starbucks cup, with presents and Christmas trees all done up in intricate clean lines.

“I got you some coffee.”

“It’s so pretty,” she crooned over the cup. “Last year they had just plain red ones, right?”

“I didn't notice.”

She fixed her eyes on the road and sipped. So he wasn’t a talker, she knew that. He got her coffee. That was a good start.

_Mocha. A coffee and hot chocolate in one. Perfect._

She sighed.

“We have around an hour on the road before us,” Bane said quietly.

Despite the layers of clothes and coffee, Spencer shivered a bit.

“Okay, I'll try not to talk you to death.”

She tried to hide her contentment at his pleasant chuckle.

“Don't worry about it.”

The town was bathed in incandescent rays of rising sun, but she couldn’t focus on anything. Not on people hanging up Christmas lights, not on shopkeepers sweeping walkways out front, not on people rushing to and from.

_Who was rushing in a town like this anyway? Probably Fudgies who forgot to return home after summer._

She turned to observe Bane who was much more interesting than the view outside.

“What are you having?”

“The same stuff I ordered for you.”

Silence again. Spencer sipped another gulp of sweet coffee, once again mulling over how to engage her companion in an exchange longer than two sentences.

He surprised her, when he decided to volunteer.

“I used to order tea for longer trips, but you spoiled me with your excellent blends. So I thought I'd try hot chocolate instead, but it was too sweet. I settled on this then.”

“Why not just taking a black coffee?”

“That I have great at home. Barsad makes a fantastic roast himself.”

“No! Really?”

“He does. He has a supplier of fresh beans. And he visits him once or twice a year to do some magic voodoo dance over the shrubs.”

“I'd like to see him do that,” she chuckled.

Bane fell silent, and once again Spencer frantically looked for a topic to make him say anything. His voice was fuel for her fantasies and she wanted to hear more of it, goddammit!

“Well, if I spoiled you for commercially available tea, I guess I'll have to take the responsibility.” The exaggerated theatrical sigh left a matted stain on the window she turned to.

“Is that so?” There was warmth of an amusement in his inquiring tone, and a hint of very foreign lilt she didn’t pick up before. Where was he from? Definitely not from Michigan, she was dead certain of that fact.

“I guess you can use my stash, if you'd like,“ she offered with fake magnanimity.

“That's very generous of you.”

“The least I can do after so cruelly forcing you into the world of decent brews.”

“You’re talking tea or beer now?”

“You didn't have any of my beers yet,” she soberly pointed out.

Bane just nodded, keeping his eyes in the road.

“Would you like to sample one? Tomorrow, after the work is done, perhaps?” She asked the question automatically, high on adrenaline and intoxicated with the way muscles danced in his forearms when he moved them on the wheel.

_What. In. The. Actual. Fuck. Spencer._

Silence yet again, and this time it felt like an eternity.

“Or don't, that was silly of me to suggest,” she mumbled to fill out the air with any sound, anything at all that would make her feel marginally less stupid.

“You have local brands in your stash, yes?”

“Mhm.” Best to keep the answers short and simple least she blurted out something idiotic again.

“I'm actually more of a tequila guy.”

“Sure you are.” She almost succeeded in not sounding disappointed.

_He’s your contractor Spence, not a date._

“I wouldn't mind broadening my palate. It seems like this state has an abundance of understated but powerful experiences.”

“You betcha’.”

Again, in the car there was only the sound of the wind whooshing past and engine revving.

_What to say, what to say..._

Not even the radio filled the space between them. Bane didn't put on a CD, nor did he have an USB with some music plugged in. Spencer fiddled for a long while with her scarf, but the silence was gnawing on her. If he didn't speak she would jump him, and that would definitely be awkward, not to mention dangerous to other users of the road.

“You guys are pretty silent. I was all ready to endure listening to some horrid radio station, you know.”

“We are used to working in silence.”

“Why?”

“We had to make do only with each other’s company for a long time, so it stuck. No need to distract ourselves from the task at hand anyway.”

“Were you in the army?” She blurted out without thinking. But it nagged at her mind for a while now, and with what he just said seemed only logical explanation. Then again, that was not her place to get in his life with her dirty little boots. “Sorry, that was indelicate. You just have this air around you, one I could describe only as a commanding officer…” She admitted. “I feel like you’re impossible to be lied to.”

_What the fuck Spence, don’t dig yourself any deeper, you stupid girl!_

Five seconds of silence was all she could endure.

“Also, your crew is so tidy and efficient, and it’s all so very organized, the army was my first thought when I saw how you guys work.”

_And there it goes again…_

“Indeed?” There was some strange quality to his voice. It sounded almost strained; not amused exactly, but not really offended.

So Spencer dug her hole a little deeper saying the first thing that came to her mind.

“I mean, it’s fine if you weren’t a soldier. And if you were, that’s also fine. I dig it. Really, anything is okay." She actually face-palmed. “I’m babbling again, sorry.”

Bane didn't chuckle. In fact he stayed poker faced, absolutely focused in the road, his gloved hands silently operating the wheel and the clutch.

_Who the fuck drives a manual anyway?_

Biting her lip she huffed an angry breath out her nostrils. Frustration fought in her mind with embarrassment.

Beyond the car, naked trees rolled past, an unending ribbon of white black and blue.

“Do I make you nervous?”

The question actually made Spencer jump in surprise. Her cheeks warmed with mortification, but she soldiered on and tried for once being absolutely truthful.

“A bit. But not only that, to be honest.”

_Aaaaand there it goes once again..._

What in the hell made her say all those things to him?!

“Hmm.”

That was his only answer. A noncommittal grunt. It left Spencer shaking with apprehension.

“We’re here.” Bane stated simply after another hour-long spell of silence. It felt this long in Spencer's mind, so she didn't really bother checking the actual time, lest it turned out to be only five minutes. The ride was torture.

They arrived at an industrial-looking shop, with a small red painted house hidden behind it. It looked like yet another hipster workshop maintained by a Fudgie, probably posing as a Yooper but in fact being at most a Trooper. At most.

Poser, in short.

Short walk from the car was enough for Spencer to get thoroughly chilled, and she huddled her arms around her to retain a fraction of the warmth left over from the drive.

Bane opened the door for her, and then they stepped into another dimension.

It was a dreamland, filled with intricately woven metal, polished wood, stained glass and lace of ropes. Yards and yards of ropes of all textures and diameters, twisted and knotted into fantastic shapes, supporting and binding light bulbs, winding up the stands and studs, all in brilliant deep hues.

“Oh, my!”

“It's unique, isn't it?”

“All those shapes! And colors, just look at that! How exquisite!” The artist in her morphed into a squealing babbling mess, twisting around with sparkling eyes and a stupid smile plastered on her face.

She totally missed how Bane bit his lip, watching with a smirk the way she took it all in.

“Mr Crane is a business acquaintance. Speaking of the devil.“ He turned to the slender man standing at the doorway to the office. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hello Bane. Punctual as ever.”

His voice was velvety and level, like a well-blended smoothie. The accent was weird, difficult to place, like Bane's.

“You wouldn't have it any other way. May I present, Ms Spencer Parker.”

Crane nodded at Spencer from his safe vantage point by the office.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise. How do you do?“ It was all so Downton Abbey, so she threw reason out of the window and decided to emulate English gentry. Why ever not? Her lamp maker was apparently wearing a suit to work.

_How odd._

“I heard you're interested in some of my designs.”

“I think so, yeah.” The smile she flashed was more embarrassed than anything. She had no idea he existed five minutes prior.

Crane seemed to understand, but didn't care.

“Let me show you around. What in particular would suit your needs?”

_A muscular hunk with some DIY skills and possibly a dangerous past._

But to the lampmaker she only said with a polite smile, “I need something keeping close to the ceiling, but ornamental enough to still be a captivating centrepiece of the room.”

“I have just the thing for you.”

 


	14. Oh, deer...

oOo

Wanderlust IPA

Jasper Ridge Brewery

_Will fill you with a strong desire to hit the road on an epic adventure._

oOo

Crane wasn’t the most gracious host.

Granted, he did show Spencer around, pointing her gaze to most intricate designs, directing her steps where she had the best vantage point to decide whether she liked a piece or not.

But then she was stewing in her parka, her throat was really dry because of all the talking, and he never offered her to have a drink of water or showed her a place to leave her jacket at.

_Odd._

It was peculiar, his obvious thoughtfulness when it came to objects and absolute ignorance to the vibe around him. As if people were just more intricate pieces of the decor. Interchangeable, temporary.

After a quarter of an hour Crane left her alone and stalked over to Bane, apparently for a little chat. She used the time away to observe both men. There was tension between them, something fleeting but noticeable. Bane said Crane was his business acquaintance, but he seemed more than that. An ex-boyfriend, perhaps?

The idea made Spencer gasp in shock. Never before did she entertain the notion that Bane, with his sturdy built and confident swagger, could swing for the other team.

_And why the hell not?_

She was drooling after a guy, while he could be even more unavailable than she thought initially. Even more unmindful of him as a person than when she objectified him in her fantasies…

Shaking unpleasant thoughts away, she made herself turn towards one of the lamps. This one caught her attention right away, and it had two companion pieces. Crane said he could also make a fitting desk lamp, which would be absolutely perfect. The only question left was - could she actually afford it?

Back two weeks ago, Bane slid his cost estimate saying it was a price tag on her quality of life. Perhaps it was. Who if not her would appreciate fine objects of everyday use? Why not splurge on the items she will be surrounded with every day? Why not support someone talented, manufacturing little objects of art?

She turned with a last sigh, steeling her resolve.

“Mr Crane, I have reached my decision.”

_That came out quite regal…_

For once she didn’t dwell on the thought, noticing with keen eyes some details that didn’t fit the scene before her.

Bane was stoic as ever, posed with one bulky arm propped against the wall, at once relaxed and alert. He looked down at Crane, who in turn was suspiciously close, turned at an angle, so Spencer could clearly see his hands hidden at the small of his back, restless palms fidgeting with his cuffs. Again, there was an off type of tension between the men, something hidden, but nearly palpable in the air around them.

She felt as if she might as well be back in the car, so much resolve was in Bane’s stare.

In a blink they were both back to their old impassive selves.

Crane shuffled to her with a small smile, and suddenly Spencer was preoccupied with the battle between her inherent frugality and learned magnanimity. The prices the lampmaker set were very steep. After all though, her past experience as a potter won out, and she conceded to a nominal discount of three percent, on accounts of referral by Bane.

The matter was settled and with no further ado, albeit with some awkwardness, then they were out of the workshop and into the car.

Bane just drove away, without turning, waving or looking back into the rearview mirror.

“Was that really only a business acquaintance?”

Bane didn’t answer and Spencer felt ready to kick her own head.

“Nevermind, it's a stupid question. None of my business.”

“We were partners once,” he said at length, eyes very much focused on the road.

_How can you say things like this and not specify what you mean?_

“I see,” she murmured, desperately trying not to scream out her frustration. “What went wrong?”

“We had a difference in opinion.”

“That’s common.”

“Indeed it is.”

For some reason, the silence this time was a little more bearable. Maybe it was due to the fact that Spencer gradually grasped the ridiculousness of her attraction to Bane, right at that moment. She knew nothing of him as a person. Was obviously only smitten with his looks and capabilities.

_So what?_

The stubborn part of her mind supplied other tracks to follow.

They both loved good tea.

They both liked working with their hands.

He liked Billie.

He seemed to have some kind of soft spot for her too.

An urgent sound brought Spencer back from her musings. Her cell phone vibrated and she squealed happily seeing who it was.

“Go ahead,” Bane encouraged.

“Hello Ted, how are you?”

The wide grin she had while she answered the call gradually faded and morphed into a frown.

“I see. Let me call you tonight about it? Oh. I see. Can you give me a specific time then?” She sighed. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

“Bad news?”

“Yeah. There's that one specific piece of furniture I wanted, and a guy who helps me with that just got a better offer. So, I have to decide right now if I want to buy it.“

“Where's the problem?”

“I have to see it first, in person, to make sure it's the way I want it. I’ve only seen pictures up until now.”

“What's the address?”

“Listen, I don't want to impose too much on you, it's nice enough of you to drive me around to get the lamp.”

“We’re already out, I made sure you'll have enough time to fuss over everything which you practically didn't even use a half of. The crew has the day off anyway, because we’re waiting for that joining agent to properly dry. Come on, let's just go.”

“Okay, it's a warehouse in Negaunee.“

“The one on Iron Street?”

“That's the one, yeah.”

Before Bane had a chance to say a word, their world spun on its axis.

The car swerved, tires screeching when it turned sideways violently. A flash of dusty brown was all Spencer saw before everything turned into greyish-green blur.

She heard the click of hazard lights, and was aware of her companion saying something, but for some unexplained reason she couldn't focus on the words.

Then she realized her ears were ringing. A steady high pitched note lodged itself into her head, masking every other sound.

Bane's hands were on her in an instant. He gently turned her head this way and that, pressed for a second on her chest with the lightest of touches, made sure both her arms were uninjured.

“I'm fine,” she found herself saying. The sound stopped abruptly, and her words were stronger than she anticipated, sharper. "No injuries, I have the seatbelt and didn't hit anything."

Chest heaving she looked around between the trees and down the deserted road. 

_What was that?_

Bane impatiently clicked his tongue and before she realized her cheek was enveloped in his big and warm palm. The skin was bumpy with callouses, a little too rough from bad hydration and exposure to temperature and dust. Pads of his fingers hid underneath soft strands of her hair.

With a simple tug he made her look straight into his eyes.

_What a surprisingly dull color. And whoa, that's a lot of wrinkles..._

“I needed to make sure,” he rasped out. “That deer came out of nowhere.”

_Was there a deer?_

“Yeah, I guess so.” She moved her head back and Bane took the cue, letting his palm fall back on his lap. 

Spencer looked around, trying not to notice in her peripheral how Bane slid the glove back onto his hand. The leather was buttery when he first touched her, and it was the most delicious contrast to how worn and real his skin felt on hers.

_I wish I could just cuddle up to you._

“We should go straight home.”

_And leave me there, alone?_

“Nonsense.” Spencer said, forcing herself to smile. “Your reflexes spared us an accident, so let's get the most of the day and go see my new bed. Carpe diem, eh?”

He measured her with a frown for what felt like a whole minute. Eventually, his head moved in a short nod and he started the engine again.

“But you'll let me buy you lunch and escort you right back home. Alright?”

His tone was serious, as if Spencer would think of objecting.

_Morherfucking right you'll escort me home. Right down to my bed!_

“If you insist,” she said out loud. “I don't see any harm in that.”

oOo


	15. Glow(er)ing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I was extremely busy at work!

oOo

Downtown Brown Ale

Red Jacket Brewing Company

_Seems obvious at first glance, but leaves you messy and with your throat cloyed._

oOo

 

On Friday Spencer greeted Bane and his men with a big smile and a platter full of gingerbread. She was restless the night before, after having spent most of her day with her contractor in what basically amounted to the best trip ever. He showed her Crane’s beautiful lamps, then there was an adventure with the deer, next she got her bed which was perfect, and after all of that Bane got her into a heated argument over which pasties shop in town was best. Which in turn led to buying pasties in both.

Before they made it to Spencer's apartment, Bane's cellphone rung and he had to reschedule their tasting session for another time.

But he did get her home safely.

For the rest of the day Spencer didn't know what to do to unwind. She set on baking. It was the last day of November, so she thought it would be perfect to kick off Christmas season with style.

Also, she was slowly going crazy, obsessing over whether Bane would kiss her if he'd gone up with her, or what exactly did his partnership with Crane entail.

All in all, she made peace with the things she could not change, vowing to enjoy whatever came her way. For now it was some mild amusement from Bane and a light chuckle from Barsad, as they marched in with the supplies in hand.

This day the work consisted of attaching the thing that would actually soundproof the room, MLV. It turned out to be something that looked much like ordinary sheet of graphite-colored rubber. Barsad explained that they only had to sand the walls to make all the surfaces perfectly even.

Then Bane chimed in, voice muffled a bit because of the dust mask he had on his face.

“And then we can attach the magic component.”

“Well, it will become a room full of magic then,” Spencer replied.

With the last of her rational thought she focused on not faceplaming right then and there.

_Would you say something normal for once, you stupid girl?_

“I thought you needed someone to do the magic with.” Barsad practically sang, pretending he was looking out the window.

“What, you're offering?”

“I'm taken. Maybe you'll find someone else.”

_Taken? By whom?_

“Oh no, you'll leave me heartbroken and without an alternative? “

“I can speak only for myself.”

“I guess.”

“Also, I get the magic of Christmas season, contrary to my boss here who didn't even try your gingerbread.”

That stung.

“Well, it's a free country,” she reminded. “I won't be keeping you off your work anymore. Have to get back to writing anyway.”

The ten steps to the living room were not able to make her untense her suddenly rigid back. Or to erase the unhappy pout from her face.

She barely managed to lodge herself comfortably on the couch, when a movement in her peripheral caught her attention.

Bane prowled towards her, almost filling out the narrow corridor with his bulk. The mask was gone, his hair a bit dishevelled, the plaid shirt he had on was unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up. His jeans were riding dangerously low on his hips too.

_He would look just like that if he'd ever stayed the night..._

“Take a seat,” she invited before she could say anything stupid.

He did sit, on the opposite side of the couch, stretching an arm on the backrest. Looking perfectly at home and in command, even with his dusty clothes on.

“I'm not really one for sweets,” he stated simply.

“You do look like a fruit guy.” She agreed.

“I am.“

Spencer sucked on a cookie for a moment before she bit the tip of the star off, wondering why Bane didn't talk more, and how to keep him entertained.

_I'm worried you don't find me interesting._

“It's a really old family recipe, you know. Made with honey instead of molasses or sugar.”

“Is it now?” He sampled one, eyeing the heart shaped cookie critically before he bit in. “Not too sweet. Spicier than I thought. Aromatic.” He nodded with an impressed frown. “Pretty good.”

“Damn right they are!” She exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “I used dark ale instead of milk too.”

That resulted in Bane laughing out loud.

Spencer sucked in her lower lip at the sound. It was an honest and deep laughter, one that made him lean towards her a bit. He caught himself mid movement and with an annoyed smirk leaned back more comfortably, his head falling to the headrest.

“You mind if I rest here a bit?”

“Be my guest.”

_You could rest on me and I wouldn't complain._

“I had fun yesterday. “

“I'm glad to hear that.”

This time it was Spencer's turn to leave the silence between them, to let it stretch and weave around them. It was oddly comfortable, once she got the gist of it. Just the sensation of being relaxed together on the same couch was enough to hide the discomfort of a lull in conversation.

It couldn't last.

Barsad called out for help, and that was it. Spencer watched Bane's back as he scaled the corridor, once again awestruck with his elegant stride and absolutely barbaric-looking mounds of muscles underneath his shirt.

The soundproofing went smoothly, up to the moment when Bane's cellphone chimed. Spencer heard the tolling bell from her perch in the living room, a grave and haunting sound. He emerged from the bedroom in fresh clothes, excusing himself in a hurry, promising Barsad would take care of the rest of the job.

“Only if I can get some of that gingerbread to go!” The foreman shouted, jutting his head out from the foil guarding the doorless entrance.

Bane sent an inquiring look Spencer's way. A tad stern, piercing and hopeful, all at the same time.

It made her abdomen tremble with excitement.

“I can hook him up,” she offered breathlessly.

_And I could hook you up with some sugar any time too, Big Bad Bear…_

 

oOo

 

The Tree Lightning was a big deal in downtown Marquette, as was the Christmas Parade. Spencer liked standing in the crowd on a dark night illuminated with thousands of lights, smiling faces and ridiculous outfits. She joined the festivities at her favourite bar, and followed the trucks, and platforms, and people in ridiculous outfits, all the way down to the tree prepared at Marquette Commons. It was a lovely cheerful crowd and for a little while Spencer felt like she could endure if a reader recognised her.

But it was dark, and she had a hat on, and a scarf pulled up almost over her nose, so there was no real danger of that dreadful thing happening.

There was a moment, when she sipped her cocoa, listening to the choir singing carols and waiting for Santa to light the tree, when she felt almost happy. The only thing she lacked was someone broad-shouldered behind her back, to lean on and exchange meaningless comments with.

_We'll get to that Spence, all in due course._

Finally it was time to press the switch, and she gasped, in unison with all kids around, when the lights on the tree were finally turned on. The Christmas tree was towering benevolently over the crowd, casting sparkling reflexes on every smooth surface, steady glow of pale lights flickering on the fresh snow.

_Life is good._

With a grin she turned after a long while, belly warmed with hot chocolate and chest full of elation.

Bane was right there.

Spencer grinned harder, adjusting the scarf over her cheeks.

_Perfect!_

She drew in a breath to call out to him, but she noticed something that made her hold the freezing air in her lungs.

There was a petite hand clad in a red glove, resting securely on his shoulder. He turned to the side and shuffled closer the most beautiful woman Spencer had ever seen. She knew that for a fact, because she observed her, drawn and wrote about her. Or at least her image.

The woman from the bar, her muse. The impeccable and infuriatingly brilliant doctor.

And then Bane leaned down and when he rose back up, there was a little boy clinging to his neck, propped up on Bane’s hip. He had the cutest pout on, and his hair, as dark as his mother’s, was ruffled and tousled from the cap he was trying to get as far away as he could from himself. The woman took it and put it back over his head, while Bane smiled down the warmest smile Spencer ever saw on a man.

_A father’s smile._

The chocolate curdled in Spencer's stomach, along with all her hopes and dreams.


	16. BBC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not what you may think it is...

oOo

Olde Ore Dock Scottish Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Tradition with a kick. Even if you start up light, you’ll end up in a dark place. _

oOo 

  
  
  


“Would you look at Doctor Tate? What a perfect picture!” Some woman standing nearby remarked to her companion. Both ladies looked up admirably at the woman fussing over the child in Bane’s arms.

“And who is that brutish man with her little boy?”

“Oh, probably the father. They make such a pretty couple.”

“So beautiful, both of them!”

Fighting sudden nausea and tears welling up in her eyes, Spencer hurried through the crowd, trying to put as much distance between herself and the christmas tree. The first breath she drew semi normally was on a bench in the park by the harbor. 

Her heart ached, physically hurt. With one hand she tried to muffle her desperate sobs, chest tightening further with the effort, while with the other she fished for a handkerchief.

_ Fantastic, now everyone will look at you funny Spence. Get a grip before someone comes asking what happened. _

But no one was around.

Merry crowd was revelling two streets away, basking in the warmth of christmas lights and glory of sharing happy moments with their loved ones. And Spencer was sitting on a cold bench, looking with unseeing eyes to the boundless black depths of the big lake.

 

oOo 

 

Spencer roamed the streets, mulling over where to go. Her usual pub was out of the question, since Bane’s paramour went there. If she saw the woman right now Spencer wasn't sure what would she do. Start screaming in frustration? Fall apart to pieces? Let the ground swallow her whole, or call for a thunder to struck her? Or all of the above at once? 

Of course the odds of meeting any of them at Stucko’s right at this moment were pretty low, but she wasn’t the one to take chances. Plus, she wanted to have a drink right the fuck now.

The new brewery down the road from her apartment wasn’t too close, and anyway had too many smiling and cheerful people in. No, tonight she was in the mood for some old fashioned drink, in an old fashioned pub, doing some old fashioned moping.

Her grandma used to frequent one place close to the lake, which seemed to check all the boxes. 

Spencer walked down the Lake Shore Boulevard, dragging her feet and braving the harsh winter wind. It seemed appropriate, the pain of iceshards prickling her skin, just like the image of Bane with his family pierced her heart.

_ Foolish, stupid, idiot girl... _

The walk from the park was mercifully short, and Spencer stopped her inner self-whipping when she reached her destination. 

The interior was dim and cozy, wooden booths hiding the patrons, strings of christmas lights framing the bar and extending over to the rest of the pub.

The bartender smiled at her when she took her seat on a stool.

“Hey, aren’t you Vicky's granddaughter?”

“The one and only. Spencer Parker.”

“You always got breadsticks when she took you with her, right?”

“Everyone gets breadsticks here,  they're amazing.”

“That is true.”

“I'm on a liquid diet tonight.” She said with a daring look. “So why don't you make me Nana’s favorite?”

“What makes you think it was a drink?”

Spencer smiled wolfishly at that. “Come on, she was my grandma.” The emphasis on ‘was' didn't leave a trace of doubt over Spencer's meaning.

“I do see the family resemblance in that look!” He laughed and set on preparing the concoction. 

She managed only to check the ingredients of citrus and ginger bourbon smash when someone tapped her on the shoulder. The girl's face was familiar, if a bit grotesquely twisted in a happy grin. A bit too happy. 

_ Oh yeah, I knew someone with a smile of this magnitude a long while back. _

“Brenda?”

“Oh, you do remember me, eh? Hi Spence!”

She was forced out of her hooker and into a bone crunching hug. 

“Brenda the Boner Crusher.”

“Oh my God, not so loud. And I'm not anymore. Quite the contrary.”

Spencer snorted and hopped back on her seat.

“Let's have a drink for old times sake. What's your poison?”

“I'm actually waiting for a date.”

“I hope he's worth it. One for the courage then.”

“Good idea. I'll have pop.”

Spencer only glared, tilting her head with a meaningful frown. 

“Okay, a double Jack.” 

The bartender just delivered Spencers drink and winked at both of them, listening on the exchange.

“You heard the lady, double Jack on my tab please.”

“Coming right away.”

“So, what's been up with you? When did we last see each other l, do you remember?”

“Summer when I turned twenty one, I think?” Spencer mused after sipping on her drink.

“No, the one after that, when I finished college.”

“I barely remember that one”

“Your grandma complained to my mom all the time, I was so grounded then, eh.”

“You were always so grounded.” They giggled happily. “Who's that guy you're waiting for? Been seeing him much?”

“He's not really from here, so you wouldn't know him from your summer holiday. I met him like a while back, and thought he's so fucking hot. I mean he's older than me, and so incredibly calm. Like, I can be stressed out or really fussing over something and he just comes over, looks at the stuff and has a solution. Quick and clean, just like that.”

“But he makes you wait on a Friday evening.”

“Nah, his boss had some last minute emergency and he had to cover for him. He should be here soon.”

“I hope not too soon, it's nice to catch up and gossip.”

“I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, Ms. P.”

“Barsad.” The surprise was visible and Spencer turned to the man with her eyebrow arched way up. “Hi again.”

He waved at her and leaned in for a quick fond smooch with Brenda after he gave her a neat packet of gingerbread. 

_ What a sly beast! _

“You two know each other?” The girl asked circling his bicep and pressing him possessively closer to her ample chest.

“I happen to work for your friend here.” Barsad chuckled lightly, glancing down at his date with a smirk.

“Barsad is helping with some renovations around my grandma's new apartment.”

_ And apparently wooing you with my cookies. _

“Oh your grandma. It still feels weird that you don't live at your family's old house.”

“That would be way too big for just one person, never mind the age. Speaking of which, three's a crowd, so you two birds run away before you'll be trapped by some chatty old spinster.”

“Oh no, you could go for dinner with us,” Brenda offered.

For the first time Spencer saw flicker of panic in Barsad’s eyes. The temptation to accept the offer out of pure spite and malevolence was overwhelming.

_ Serves you right fucker, for all those winks and snickering... _

“I really couldn't. Have fun you two. See you on Monday, Barsad.”

“Have a fun weekend Ms. P.” The smile he gave her was the first genuinely happy grin she saw on the man. 

_ No wonder Brenda can’t get her hands off of him. This beard makes him look delicious, and his eyes are always so hooded as if he just got out of bed.  _

She turned back to the counter and smiled at the bartender. Ahead of her were two days with three guys and a jewel. 

_ Gentleman Jack, Jim Beam, Captain Morgan and Bombay Sapphire. Fun, fun, fun! _


	17. Pity Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, now a glimpse into Bane's head!

oOo

Classic Pilsner

Blackrocks Brewery

_ Comfort of familiarity, backed up by centuries old history. _

oOo

 

Sound of sniffing accompanied spoon clinking none too gently on the rim, as Spencer filled the bowl. Nothing too fancy, some B&J’s chocolate fudge. Then she sniffed some more, wiped her nose with her sleeve and splashed some bourbon around the glass she was trying to pour it into. The beer she had just downed was hoppy, and she needed something sweet to combat the bitterness. Since ice-cream was obviously cold, she also needed something to keep her warm. Whisky always did the trick.

_ So, he is not only taken, but also has a kid with the most beautiful woman in the world. Who is a surgeon. Fuck. _

She plopped down onto the couch and resumed ‘Chocolat’. Carrie Anne Moss was just chiding her movie son that there was no chocolate eating during the Lent. Right. 

_ If you forget your place in the scheme of things, someone will remind you.  _

Sniffing into her glass, she took a healthy swig of her drink.

It was silly to cry over a guy she had no real claim on, and Spencer knew that. Nevertheless, she was sure she didn’t imagine his warm smiles or the comments he made. Or the way he teased her, and the way his hand slid over her cheek that one time...

She was like Comte de Reynaud, sniffing jam from the jar, but not able to taste it because of the self-imposed rules. The trip was like a whiff of hot chocolate, decadent and intoxicating. It promised rich smoothness and dark pleasure, radiating warmth throughout her body. 

She just couldn’t get a sip. No matter how much she wanted the man, she would never break a family.

 

oOo

 

Bane was sitting in his kitchen, hunched over a bottle. Last night he didn’t get much sleep, as was the case for most of past week. The semi pleasant dizziness was humming throughout his body, making him relaxed with weariness. Funny thing, once he would be wound up tight, spine rigid and tense with forced effort to stay alert. Ready. Alive.

But now he could sleep until noon and start his day with a hot shower, or even a bath. And then drink beer after leisurely breakfast.

Sleep eluded him after four hours, so the only reasonable thing to do was to find respite some other way. Alcohol in moderation had a positive effect of helping him unwind, and sometimes it also helped in giving in to his natural inclination to self-indulge. He had been conditioned to resent this part of himself, but with focused mental exercise it was fading. It only took ten years or so, but now he thought of going back to bed with only a slight pang of guilt or disgust.

The kitchen door opened and in came Barsad, at home and casual, carrying the usual bag of coffee beans. 

Right, Saturday was Roasting Day, Bane thought. 

“Beer, Brother? Our little host is rubbing off on you.” The comment was dripping with mirth.

“Not the way I’d like her to.”

Barsad cackled, shaking his head when he sat beside him.

“What's stopping you? She seems agreeable enough.”

“I am not the master of my time.”

Despite knowing exactly what Bane meant, Barsad didn’t hold back a snort.

“Are you not?”

“There are rules to be followed. A courtship to be conducted.”

Bane’s explanation sounded weak even in his own ears. After all, he wasn’t really known for following orders to the letter. 

Sure enough Barsad had a retort ready in a second.

“Bending the rules never seemed to worry you before.”

“The child brings out the responsible side of me.”

“She seems to appreciate it. The responsible and reliable contractor that you are. Did you notice the way she looked at you on the demo day?”

“Perhaps.” 

How could he not notice? The awe and desire were like a physical caress, her eyes roaming over him as he worked. She bit her bottom lip so much he could clearly see how much darker than normally it was when she spoke to Barsad. Would she bite it the same way if he’d tell her to stop and wait until he’d be finished, with her back to him, palms pressed to the wall, waiting for him with her hips angled back.

The way her voice hitched, and then finished with a breathless undertone after she noticed him turn fully her way…

He wondered briefly, would she talk to him like this if he’d scaled her neck with his tongue, if he'd bite the tender place at the top of her spine, if he’d scratch and bruised her hips…

“At any rate, she’d have to be aware of who she’s dealing with. And that’s out of the question,” he reasoned.

Was he trying to convince Barsad, or himself? 

“Rumor has it, one can actually date someone without parting with all of one's secrets and mysteries.”

“I’m not interested in a mere dalliance.”

“You have to get laid sometime.”

“Are you offering?” Bane huffed a small chuckle with the idea.

“I'm taken. Maybe you'll find someone else.”

The same line he said to Spencer.

Spencer, who smiled so sweetly after smallest praise. Who noticed details like the color of a cup, or fragrance of tea, or shape of snowflakes. Who got so lost in thoughts the outside world seemed to disappear to her completely. Who had face so unguarded, her every emotion flashed with matching expression, baring her soul to the trained eye.

Bane took a healthy swig of his drink to mask his prolonged silence.

“She's so plain. And so fragile. Perhaps she thinks she wants me, but she doesn't know what I want from her.”

“How are you so sure of what she wants from you?”

Infuriatingly, Barsad had a point. Bane didn’t know. He presumed, but wasn’t really certain. Couldn’t be certain until he asked. But then, she could be scared off, or disgusted and he would be left with nothing. Again.

“She writes children's books, Barsad,” he reasoned. 

“I'm pretty sure she’s dabbling in some adult fiction on the side. Like, full fledged porn.”

Bane only scoffed at that.

“No, really. You think women don’t like to read about a nice juicy cock?” 

“Is that intel from your lovely lady friend?”

“Oh, Brenda is a treasure trove of information. She taught me a lot about women in general.“ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And you know what, she also knows Ms P.”

“Does she? How do you know?”

“We met yesterday at the bar. Apparently they were childhood friends.”

“Did you find out anything useful?”

“Some interesting things, but mostly minor details. Your writer is not as innocent as she looks.”

Bane only snorted derisively, in a vain attempt to hide his curiosity.

“She really is naughtier than you would like to think.”

“Not Spencer.” Bane shook his head, barely holding back from adding ‘my’ to the sentence.

Barsad measured him with a stern stare, folding hands over his chest. 

“Oh really?”

“She’s pure.” Bane's voice was filled with near religious conviction.

“May I remind you she drinks like an Irishman.”

“She's a writer.”

“Supposedly of children's books. She’s no Hemingway.” Barsad pointed out. “Tell you what. I bet you twenty bucks she really does porn on the side.”

“She does not.”

“Fifty if it’s hardcore or especially kinky.”

“You're being ridiculous.”

“It's a deal then.” Basad concluded with a grin.

He left Bane to wonder, what if. 

What if she really had tastes similar to his…?

oOo


	18. Hungover Monday

oOo

Cold Hearted Ale

Red Jacket Brewing Company

_ Thin but constant, subtle yet hardy. A contradiction. _

oOo

 

Monday started harshly. 

For once, Spencer was glad for the whole ordeal with the remodelling - thanks to that she had to sleep on the couch and that was way closer to the kitchen than any of the bedrooms. As soon as she got up she made her way to the sink, gulping down big mouthfuls of blissfully cool water, regretting half of the drinks she had the previous two days.

_ Way to fucking go, Spence. Destroying your liver to prove you’re not sad about a guy. _

The sky was still dark out when she finished her shower and started the kettle. It snowed again, white flakes falling peacefully, slithering into view only when they hit a beam of light. A streetlamp like a reverse umbrella, the snow raining only under the canopy of brightness. Windows like headlamps, illuminating a path into darkness, stretching out into soft nothingness.

Just like beams on the car which just turned to park out back.

_ Bane. _

On reflex, she fumbled around for awhile. Was the couch in order? Is the bathroom clean enough? Then she remembered again how he smiled down at that little boy, and what was left of her heart solidified with the crystal clear certainty. He would never be hers, so there was no point trying. No point dreaming. No point pretending his little niceties were anything more than just that. A polite facade of a professional.

She poured the water into the teapot and went back to the living room.

There would be no more reminiscing over what he said. Or how his palm felt against her cheek. Or how his muscles bulged underneath his shirt. Or how his beard hid more and more of that luscious mouth, teasing only bits of it, visible solely in rare moments when he smiled. But that smile...

_ What’s the matter with me? You’d think a girl would learn... _

With a tired sigh, she went on to open the lock downstairs when the alarm buzzed, then unlocked the door and sat herself comfortably on the couch. There was only one thing she had to do this day, and she reminded herself of her task while listening to a now familiar racket of men coming into her house.

_ No flirting. _

“Morning, Spencer,” Bane greeted, tone warm and pleasant.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

He paused in taking his jacket off for a second, a visible flash of surprise in his eyes. Just as quickly he composed himself, but his men noticed, as did Spencer.

The smile she sent his way was polite, and nothing more. She perfected it in the mirror for the whole Sunday. She also thought hard if she was even supposed to stay on the couch, like she did through the previous week. Eventually, she decided to stay, for fear of appearing too suspicious if she didn’t. Maybe she could relocate to the dining table later, and pretend she was drawing. That sounded like a good plan.

Apart from hello’s, no one spoke to her when they brought in the drywall and other supplies. Each and every trip was an opportunity to send a pointed look at the foreman, who never wasted a chance to send a knowing smirk Spencer’s way either. 

Bane didn’t seem to glance her way at all.

She tried not to look too hard at any of them, typing furiously some random words. She focused on the action of writing, just spewing whatever came to her mind into a Word document. After five minutes she focused on the sentences instead, letting herself get immersed into the story forming before her eyes. 

Someone clearing his throat brought her out of the trance after a long while.

“What?” She looked up at Bane, frowning slightly. She was just in the middle of a terrific paragraph with a body chopped to pieces in a bathtub, and her main character trying to figure out who the victim was. Or victims. Or was it even human meat.

“We’re getting hamburgers delivered, from Stucko’s. For lunch. Would you like one?”

“I’m good, thank you.” 

Her smile was a tad strained perhaps, but she was proud that her tone wasn’t sour.

Bane kept looking at her for a while, then he nodded and turned back to the bedroom.

His hips swayed slightly when he prowled forward, and he offered her burger from her favourite pub. 

_ Fuck, that man is a walking temptation.  _

But with how Spencer’s head still hurt, maybe it was for the better. Perhaps refraining from eating would do her more good. It would be a shame to throw up a good burger. At any point, hydration was key to overcoming a hangover, and her teapot ran dry a while back.

With a grunt she straightened up, holding one palm to her forehead.

“I see you have partied well into the weekend.”

John was standing in the corridor, broad smile flashing briefly from behind his beard.

“Shut the hell up, Barsad,” she mumbled on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh look, the lady picked up on our company slogan,” the foreman commented to Bane looming just behind him. They headed towards the storage room, and naturally had to walk past Spencer in the kitchen.

She snorted a short chuckle at Barsad’s words, but immediately winced and groaned in pain.

”Aw, did Jack hurt you?” John asked, fake concern laced with amusement.

Bane tensed and whipped his head towards them, brows furrowed and eyes wild.

“Who hurt you?”

For a moment Spencer locked gaze with him and stilled, like a hunted animal. The intensity was staggering, barely hidden rage budding at the pit of his narrowed eyes.

_ Fuck, his anger is turning me on now. How sad is that? _

She had to gulp some saliva down to moisten her throat before she answered.

“No one did.”

All the while Barsad stood nearby, observing them without hiding his smugness. He chose that moment to pat Bane’s shoulder and pass him slowly with a grin.

“Now, you don't have to worry, brother. Jack is a gentleman.”

Too late Bane realized his foreman was pulling his leg.

“The whisky,” he hissed with a disgruntled click of his tongue, taking a bucket from Barsad.

“And gin. And rum.” Spencer giggled cautiously into her palms. It was a fun weekend, if she overlooked the constant heartache.

“What, no beer?” Barsad’s amused voice carried down the hallway.

“Oh no, I'd never turn down a cold one. Had the one from my advent calendar as a starter on Friday, and then another just for the taste.”

“Any more on the menu today?” Bane asked, the question thrown over his shoulder as he turned to help Barsad with supplies.

“Just the one that's cooling in the fridge.” Spencer shrugged. 

_ He doesn’t have a reason to be displeased, and you don't have a reason to care what he thinks. _

“Drinking on the job?” Barsad sing sang from the bedroom. “Naughty, Ms P.!”

She snorted in reply, taking her tea to the couch.

“Well, I can write utter bullshit and if I don't delete it my editor will do it for me, so there! Not like I'm putting anyone in any danger by doing that.”

“What about the children?” Bane echoed dully from the kitchen over the sound of water drumming in the kettle.

He had to stalk behind her when she came out of there, and she didn't even notice when he slithered in. An unwelcome shiver ran down Spencer's spine, rising delicate fluff of hair at her nape. He was powerful like an ox, but moved with feline grace. She focused on not looking his way, determined not to memorize the picture of him at home in her own tiny kitchen.

_ It's so fucking unfair... _

Well, she might as well keep the conversation with Barsad going, as a distraction for her thoughts. 

“Oh, kids’ books are not the only thing I write. This project here,” she pointed to the computer on her thighs, “is adults only, NC-17 stuff.”

“Ha!” Barsad practically jumped from the bedroom and jogged to Bane. “I won. Pay up.”

“Won what?” Spencer asked.

“You're writing adult novels,” Barsad explained through the open kitchen divide, “and that means I just gained twenty bucks.”

“Hey, hold your horses, lover boy. It's a thriller.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yes it is. The second I penned, even.”

“And what is the first, pray tell?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Promise you won't tell anyone?”

“I promise on my honour.” 

“If you break your promise, Brenda will show you how she gained her nickname,” Spencer warned wryly.

“What nickname?”

“Brenda the Boner Crusher.”

“That does sound like a thriller.” Bane noted over a steaming cup of tea.

Surprisingly, that revelation did not derail Barsad’s train of thoughts.

“So, the title,” he demanded. 

“It's written under a pseudonym, for obvious reasons. I can't be writing both Billie and grimy scary stuff. The book actually came out this year, so it's still not too widely known, so I won't be surprised if you haven't heard of it or anything…”

“You're babbling again, Ms P.” Bane commented. 

The fact that he returned to calling her semi formally instead of by her given name did not escape Spencer's notice. 

_ I deserved that for being so cold to him this morning, I guess... _

Barsad cleared his throat ostensibly to shake her out of yet another introspection. 

“Right. It's called ‘Void Conquered.’”

“Oh, shit.”

“Fuck me.”

To her astonishment, that last sentence was Bane’s. Bewilderment of what he said battled in her head with amazement that he heard of her book.

“You know it?”

“I enjoyed reading it.”

He smiled broadly, with that little hint of giddiness that made him look at once like a young boy and the beast of a man that he was. Then he looked at her like she was the most curious person in the world.

_ And just like that, I’m back in love again. _

oOo


	19. The End, Part One

oOo

51K IPA

Blackrocks Brewery

_ True to its form. Consistent work and no-nonsense finish.  _

oOo 

 

Two weeks before Christmas, on a dreary and unpleasant Wednesday, the work has ended. 

Spencer was both relieved and terrified with that fact. For one, she would get her apartment back, now improved and finally granting her much needed respite and quiet. On the other hand, she wouldn't be seeing Bane anymore. Granted, he was only there for the tasks that needed his oversight or help, but he never wasted the opportunity to have a cup of tea with Spencer. She tried her best not to flirt, so they ended up talking about everything from food to politics. 

Apart from two instances when Barsad meddled into their conversation, that is.

Once, on Thursday, he walked in on them discussing the best synonym for ‘beak', a subject started partly because Bane still wore that monstrosity of a mask for sanding, and Spencer just couldn't pass up the opportunity to listen to his voice distorted as it was through the muzzle. 

The talk was perfectly innocent, until the foreman leaned casually on the corridor wall and suggested they go for a beer to continue the talk and pick up their order for lunch. 

“It's dangerous to go with little known men to bars,” Bane noticed, casting a warning stare Barsad’s way.

Spencer's mouth worked faster than her brain of course, and she immediately rebutted him with an air of brash confidence. 

“I like dangerous men, so that idea is enticing more than anything.”

“The lady likes danger, who would have thought,” Barsad chuckled.

Spencer blushed under a piercing gaze from Bane. She couldn't decipher what it conveyed, was it outrage or keen interest? The damn mask made it nearly impossible to distinguish. 

But then, she reminded herself of her promise, and finished that thread of the conversation, pretending she was so busy she didn't have time to go out anyway. 

No one would believe if she said she had no inclination of going to the local watering hole, so that was her only option. 

Both man seemed to take her words in stride and for the rest of the week all of them behaved exemplary. Not a hint of impropriety in sight.

Well, maybe in one or two looks, but who would deny a girl some eye candy when it was literally marching before her very eyes?

The second instance of Barsad meddling where he wasn't supposed to was a little more explicit. He sauntered over when Spencer was eating her lunch on Monday and engaged her in a light and stimulating argument over the best coffee. His knowledge was astounding, but she held her ground.

Up until the moment he started using metaphors. 

“You see, the roasting is a delicate art, it requires finesse and experience. Much like with a woman, you have to be gentle and tender, making sure your beans are happy and comfortable, and that they are never too closely packed or overheated.”

“But I'm sure that as with women, the beans also have different expectations. Some like gentle caressing with mild heat, but others develop best flavour after rough treatment with some scorching.” 

“The gentle method is working in most cases.”

“Maybe it's working, but is it always optimal?”

“So which type are you?” he asked wiggling his eyebrows comically and grinning. “Come on, I won't tell,” he finished with a conspiratorial wink.

“You'd have to find out in bed.”

“Unwise,” he noted. “That means you waste time going on dates with people who possibly won't be able to fulfil your expectations.“

“You think I should start on the first meeting with a list detailing how I like to play?”

“Couldn't hurt.” The comment seemed disinterested and Spencer nearly believed that was the end of their discussion.

“I beg to differ.” 

But of course it wasn't.

“Is it a long list?”

She pretended to mull over the answer. 

“Five items.”

“Pretty short.”

“I like to be clear when it comes to discussing something as delicate and important as my preference in bed is.” 

“If only I wasn't taken…”

“Or, if only you weren't at work,” Bane added from the entrance. He filled the space nearly completely, a foreboding and imposing figure, standing motionless and obviously tense. “Maybe then you could waste some more of your time on flirting.“

“I was only trying to convince Ms P. she should be more open in the bedroom department, brother. She has the same problem you do with the expectations and vocalizing them.”

Bane and Spencer spoke in unison then.

“I thought we were talking about coffee.”

“Mind your own business.“

“Okay, okay, I'm going back to work, geez.” He held his hands up and moved to slide past Bane. The bigger man had to turn to the side, and he used the momentum to glide elegantly closer to Spencer. He waited to speak until he heard Barsad talking with James in the bedroom.

“I apologize if he was behaving inappropriately.”

“It's fine. He made a pretty good point about a thing or two.”

Bane nodded and turned back, but then pivoted on his heel.

“Which things?”

“You ask as his boss?” Spencer confirmed, unsure of what he wanted her to say. Was this an inquiry into her dating habits, or just a check-up on his worker?

“I'm sorry, that question was unprofessional.”

He just left after that, leaving Spencer staring sadly into the divide between the kitchen and the living room, the small window littered with bottles and cans from her advent calendar.

Much like she was staring now. 

Barsad came in the morning with James to do some final touch ups, install the power outlets and take off the masking tape. When they would be finished the foreman would call Bane and that would be it.

_ I could legit just ask him out now. _

The thought brightened her mood only for a minute. How would she ever suggest such a thing, when the image of him with his son and girlfriend together was etched into her memory? He was smiling so proudly, so fondly. And the woman, Miranda, she was everything Spencer never could be. Beautiful, intelligent and successful. Why would Bane even think of spending time with Spencer, when he had someone so brilliant to come back home to?

Sound of the doorbell snapped her out of her musings. She wondered who could it be, and opened the door without peering through the visor, curious over a midday guest. 

“Hello Ms P.”

It was Bane. Today he had a dark navy button down and black slacks. He looked suave and menacing. That stupid beard was quite thick now, and even though the hair was light it still added some shade to his face, making him look like some daredevil in his forties.

“Is there something you would rather me not see?”

“Excuse me?”

“Inside.” The word was meant as a clarification. It didn't do its job. “Is there something I'm not supposed to see, so you're keeping me outside?” Bane tried again.

“Oh no, sorry. Your shirt,” she babbled, embarrassed.  “I mean, the color.  I was wondering what it is called.”

“Blue?”

“No, something more defining. Would you say it's indigo or navy blue?”

“Aren't those the same?”

“There is a difference in the intensity of the pigment. I think it's navy blue.”

“Glad I could be of use to you,“ he said with what must have been a smirk. Spencer wasn't really sure because of the moustache. “Speaking of which, I think my men will be done by noon.”

“That soon?” she didn't mean to sound as panicked as she felt.

“Isn't that a nice surprise?”

“Yes, of course.” The lie was pretty obvious. “Would you like a cup of tea in the meantime?”

“I'd love that. Just have to drop in and have a word with Barsad, but I'll be back with you in three minutes.”

“What tea would you like to have today?”

“Surprise me.”

The tone in which he said those words was enough to make Spencer's knees buckle. She waited for him to get going and hid herself in the kitchen, torn between the desire to just put a hand down her panties and relieve herself, and making him a pot of tea suitable for the last day they would ever share it.

She put the kettle on and bit her lip, pressing a quick touch to her clit through her jeans. A short pang of pleasure hardened her nipples. She tightened her legs and sucked in her lower lip.

If it felt so good just thinking about Bane and touching herself, what if he'd ever actually put his hands on her? Those big and calloused fingers sliding roughly into her wet heat, pressing on her skin with heated insistence, sliding through her hair to gather it close to scalp and pull…

She stifled a moan and made herself take out the mugs and a teapot. 

It was a day for something vibrant and luscious, and perhaps a little unexpected. 

Then she remembered who she was preparing the drink for.

_ He has a kid, and a wife. A family, Spencer. Don't flirt, you stupid cow! _


	20. The End, Part Two

oOo

51K IPA

Blackrocks Brewery

_True to its form. Consistent work and no-nonsense finish._

oOo

 

Bane may have been distracted for the past week or two, but now his focus was shrapnel sharp. He just came out from the bedroom after cautioning Barsad not to pull any pranks and he glimpsed Spencer doing something that set his head spinning, and ignited fire in his eyes. 

Just a moment before she was blushing so prettily with embarrassment, pretending not to be staring at him. He fought the urge to straighten the stray lock of hair falling across her cheek, fingertips tingling to touch her in any way. But she resisted him for the past few days, for some reason she pulled out from every conversation even bordering on flirting. Barsad didn't help with his heavy-handed interruptions, and now Bane was so frustrated with his previous reluctance to engage her he had to withdraw from most of scheduled work, sending Trogg in his stead. The tea time was his only concession towards this weakness, Spencer perfectly pleasant and appropriate, their talks casual and brief. 

He regretted the stubbornness that made him shun her efforts to entice him at first and now let her punish him with the withdrawal. 

But now - this.

He was gone for not more than a minute, and she had been so busy in the meantime. One hand gripped the counter, muscles straining with the force, while the other she had pressed at the juncture of her legs. The touch was brief and subtle, but it was enough to make her eyebrows knit together, her mouth falling open for a moment before she bit her bottom lip.

So fucking delicious, he thought hungrily. 

What set her off?

The awareness of his own arousal growing and settling in his abdomen sobered him instantly. He couldn't get back to her like that, not with Barsad and James in a doorless room just a few paces away. He retreated to the bathroom, using the time he needed to get himself in order to stare into the mirror. An old dog, acting like a fucking puppy, he thought. Despicable.

When he composed himself enough to get back to the kitchen without jumping Spencer, the woman herself was sitting on the windowsill, sipping from her favourite mug. Innocence personified. There was strong smell of lemons in the air, and a hint of something else, something vaguely spicy. 

“I've made you some honey and ginger tea.”

“Is there any actual tea in it?”

“Nope.”

“How disappointing.” 

Bane regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He could see Spencer's embarrassment, and it wasn't the kind he enjoyed. This time it wasn't the adorable blush of getting caught staring at him, but an unhappy twist of her lips. He hurt her, like a fool.

“Well, I can give you the address of my supplier, now that I won't be seeing you anyway.” 

Her words cut deep. That's right, he finished the job, so there was no escaping the reality. He had his chance, didn't take it in time, and now it was gone.

The tea left a bitter aftertaste. He glanced down and idly noted that it must have been the fault of the unpeeled lemon slice. Most probably.

“I hope you are satisfied with the results. We could have one last look to confirm everything is in order.”

“No need, Barsad explained what was left to be done, so I guess it's all cosmetics anyway.”

She wanted him out. The mask he usually had on his face cracked, and he frowned at her, confused.

“That's true,” he found himself saying. “I won't be keeping you then.”

Just in time, Barsad emerged from the bedroom, bantering with James and making his noisy way down the corridor. 

“We're all finished, boss.”

“Very well.“ 

Bane turned back to Spencer and forced himself to send a business-like, impersonal smile her way. “I shall take my leave then.” 

He reached out with his palm to shake her hand. It was so delicate in his grip, he was afraid he'd crush her. She looked crushed. Why did she look the way he felt?

“Goodbye.”

One word, but it held the gravity and impact of a missile reaching his chest. 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end of the story, no worries.


	21. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to post this chapter. It's one of my favorites!

oOo

Glad Tidings IPA

Ore Dock Brewing Company

_ A Dickens tale in a bottle. Beautiful, but too short. _

oOo

 

The room was enormous. Spencer liked the open space, but reminded herself it will soon be filled with furniture. The bed was the first piece, delivered by the warehouse worker in the very morning. How foolish she was to insist she could put it together on her own! But the challenge made her occupied, and she acknowledged that for the good it did. No point thinking of Bane and their awkward goodbye. 

Yesterday she just shook his hand and said goodbye. Just like that. The truth was, she was unable to go another minute without making a complete fool of herself. The tension of holding herself back, plus his increasing familiarity and even just the way he looked… Spencer couldn't bear it. 

So she decided its best to just part ways. Since Bane wasn’t meant for her anyway, no point in dragging the inevitable out.

But she was restless.  

There weren't any instructions included in any of the boxes, she double checked, so she ended up cross legged on the floor, looking at the ceiling and wondering how was she supposed to put that monster of the bed together. 

_ Trial and error, I guess.  _

Then an odd detail caught her attention. 

_ Funny, for all the professed thoroughness, Bane's men left the masking tape by the ceiling.  _

She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. So now she had to find a ladder and get it off herself.  _ What a treat.  _

Sound of the buzzer startled her slightly, her face scrunching up in a frown. She didn't expect a soul, now that the workers were gone, so who could that be?

She picked up the receiver and sternly asked who it was.

“It's Bane, Ms P. I'm afraid there is a thing my men neglected to finish.”

“Come on in.”

How random was that? She couldn't believe her luck. 

_ Okay Spence, second chance. Don't you fucking ruin it! _

She fiddled with the end of the scarf hanging off a rack, waiting for Bane to come upstairs. Still, she jumped with surprise when the doorbell rang.

“Hi,” she smiled at him when she opened the door and immediately moved to make way. 

“Mornin’,” he replied. His voice was oddly breathless, as if he rushed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. But of course, the notion was ridiculous.  _ Why would he ever do that? He was carrying a ladder with him, for Goodness sake.  _

His hands moved swiftly when he unzipped his jacket and hung it by the entrance, the movements precise and familiar. Spencer let herself just watch him, for once ogling him with a little smile and no remorse. 

_ I do have to wait for my guest, so it's only natural. _

“I apologize for my men, it rarely happens that they leave anything unfinished. I must have been distracted yesterday, seeing as I omit the tape myself.”

“Oh I didn't notice until just now. No wonder, since it's covered mostly in paint.”

“You're too nice,” he remarked looking up. Hands resting comfortably at his hips, the collar of his henley exposing his throat, he was the picture of confidence and masculinity. 

“Whatever you say.”

Spencer wanted nothing more in that moment than a temporary amnesia to overcome her, so she could forget about his family and just give in to the urge to lick her way from his collarbone to the messy scruff of his beard. She'd bury her fingers in his sideburns, and then slide them to the back of his head and press his lips to hers, licking across them and tasting that flat, pale scar that bisected them, and then…

Bane cleared his throat, making her gasp slightly. 

“I see you have a 3D puzzle going. Need any help with that?”

“What?” For a moment she couldn't refocus, spiralling down into the simple pleasure of watching him smile. Her own lips stretched to mimic his expression. “Oh, you mean the bed. Well, if you have time that would be a tremendous help.”

“Let it be my penance.“

“Don't worry, if it's any problem I can manage myself.”

He nodded solemnly and picked up one of the parts. It looked weightless in his thick arms, but Spencer knew that wasn't the case. Far from it. 

“How did you manage to bring it here? “

“A guy from the shop brought it.”

“And why didn't he assemble it?”

“I asked him not to.”

“Why?”

“You said that would be your penance, remember? So, get to it.” She chided, folding her arms defiantly for good measure. 

He chuckled and briefly raised his hands in mock defeat.

“I'm sorry, you're absolutely right. Habits from my previous occupation are difficult to forget.”

“And that was?” she tried, interest piqued. Never before had he volunteered any other personal information. 

“You could say I was in security.”

“Like, um, a soldier?”

“Something of the similar kind, yeah.”

The admission left Spencer with a stupid grin.

“I just knew it!”

“Well, there you go.” Bane murmured from above her. She watched him taking the tape off. The most arduous task in the job was constant need to adjust the placement of the ladder, but his long arms helped making a quick work even faster with the enormous distance he could safely reach out to. All in all, in five minutes Spencer had her bedroom finally perfectly finished.

“To the main event now?” She asked.

“Indeed.” He rubbed his hands together, eager to set in his task. “Do you have instructions?”

“Nope.”

“Of course. Well, nothing we can't overcome.”

_ Unless I die of spontaneous combustion because I'm burning for you. _

 

oOo 

 

Half an hour later he was done.

“Well, now all I need to do is to check if it won’t fall apart.” Spencer shoved at the foot of the bed. It didn’t move an inch. “That looks sturdy enough.”

“That was pathetic.” Bane threw from behind her.

“Well, be my guest, see for yourself.” She scoffed and shook her head. There was nothing that would move this monster of a bed, she knew it.

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

He came up behind her and grabbed the railing on either side. The yank he gave it rattled the whole frame, but it held through. Spencer on the other hand nearly came apart, trapped between sturdy metal in front and solid mountain of muscle at her back. Before she decided to do anything rash, like leaning back, he moved to the side and methodically tested the tension in all joints. 

“That looks good enough.” He nodded with some degree of respect.

_ Oh, Good Lord... _

“Will you help me put the mattress on?”

“Of course.”

It was compressed in a cylinder, which sprang out as soon as Bane cut through the thick plastic guarding it. Spencer giggled and tried to hold up her end, but it practically flew away from her hands, carried away by Bane's capable arms. He sent her a pointed look and left the springy mountain of foam and cloth on the bed.

Then, he theatrically dusted his palms off with a broad grin.

“All done,” he announced cheerfully.

“Yes, it's all finished, finally.” Spencer looked around, twisting with hands on her hips. 

The room lacked all furniture, and the cardboard from the bed streaked throughout the floor along with the masking tape. It was brighter than ever before, the difference in levels made it look more spacious as well. 

“I hope it will be comfortable at last.”

She twirled towards Bane with a grin. He sat hunched down on the edge of the bed now, still smiling, looking perfectly in place. Something tightened in Spencer's chest, and then immediately gave.

“Thank you.” 

She tried to look casual as she strolled over and sat beside him. 

“You should test the mattress as well,” he noted, looking straight ahead.

“You’re absolutely right. One third of our lives is spent sleeping, it would be a tremendous mistake to get the wrong type of mattress.” She plopped on her back.

The bed dipped to her side, but not enough to make her roll Bane's way. 

“You've tested it before, haven't you?”

“Sure I have. I'd never buy anything without checking it out first, as you could observe with the bedframe. But,” she turned to her side and propped her head with one hand, “I admit it makes more sense to check the give under more than just myself.”

He had his hands spread palms down, pressing lightly around himself to check the level of softness.

“Well, did you remember to test the spring too?”

“The spring? What do you…?”

With astonishing agility he turned and twisted, slid close and put his hands on either side of her hips before she managed to finish the sentence. She looked up at him a bit breathless and genuinely surprised that he just rolled her over on her back. Heat poured off him in waves, but even if it hadn’t Spencer’s cheeks would gain the same deep blush.

“It's important to be sure no exercise would disturb your neighbours,” he murmured, his deep voice washing over Spencer like a physical caress, echoing in her extremities with an excited tingle. A strong push down made her squeal in surprise and grab Bane’s biceps for stability. 

“If anything squeals it won't be the bed,” he joked, mirth soaking his tone and turning his words a bit guttural.

“Oh, that pathetic push? I don't know, might not be enough,” Spencer parred, breathless but smiling confidently against herself. Her chest was nearly brushing his and she was all set on his next words, perfectly still, taut with thrumming tension of muscles prepared for anything.

“Made you squeal,” Bane joked. The crow’s feet beside his eyes deepened, his lips, so impossibly beautiful, stretched in a smirk.

_ This is it. _

All thoughts of keeping away and respecting his family, and protecting herself evaporated like steam rising from a cup. There were taut muscles under her fingers, and even though he didn't look directly at her his eyes crinkled in a way that made her heart ache. His lips were so achingly close, still turned up in a smirk, perfectly shaped and slightly moist as if he licked them just a moment before.

_ Who could resist this kind of temptation? _

She tried. God knows she did, forcing her eyes to move away from his face. But then it didn't help, because it only made her feel more acutely the position they were in. 

_ Bane did that. Does that mean he doesn't care about his wife and kid, or is he just bored? Or am I too easy? _

She refocused on his eyes and stilled. He watched her avidly now, like a great big cat hovering over his prey. His breath caressed her lips in a warm gust and he inclined his head down. Feather light touch along her cheekbone sent shivers down her back. Hair of his beard tickled, the hair longer than stubble and not as prickly, smelling of spices and cider. 

Spencer’s palm automatically stroked up his arm, to the shoulder, and further to his neck, fingers sliding through short hair at his nape. 

_ Just a little further, lower your head just a little more... _

Muted sound of a temple bell tolled gravely nearby.

_ Is this a sign? _

Bane sighed and got up, fishing out his cellphone and looked at it with an annoyed expression, which quickly turned into a pensive frown. He excused himself and went to the living room to take the call.

Spencer was left on the bed, slowly letting out a shaky exhale. She caught a glimpse of his screen. There was a picture of someone feminine and dark haired. It was probably Dr. Tate. 

_ How stupid are you, woman? He’s taken! And way out of your league... _

Before she had a chance to self-flagellate too much Bane came back.

“I apologise, it was my sister. I will have to go now.”

Spencer’s mind blanked. It was rather blissful. For once in her life, on the inside of her head there was the absolute tranquillity of a vacuum. An endless white expanse of perfect nothingness.

Save for, perhaps, one word.

“Sister?” she asked breathlessly, rising to sit and frown at him. 

Meanwhile he was taking the ladder to get it with him to the door. 

“Yes, she needs someone to take care of my nephew and her babysitter can’t come. She has a demanding career, I’m afraid.”

“Oh I see. That’s a shame,” she babbled lamely, following Bane down the corridor.

“It is,” he nodded, putting on his jacket. “Call me if you need anything.”

One last glance over his shoulder, a shadow of a smile, and he was - gone.

_ Just like that. _

Spencer didn’t really smile back at him, only mechanically closed the door and turned the lock. Then, she leant her back on solid plane of wood and slowly slid all the way back to the floor.

_ His sister! _

_ Fuck. _


	22. The Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra short chapter today, but the next will be worth your while!

oOo

North Third Street Stout

Blackrocks Brewery  
_Cold winds, snow and a December night. The heat is there, but you have to wait for it to come._

oOo

  


Nothing went Spencer's way after the fateful day of Bane's last visit.

He left in a hurry, leaving her with more questions than answers, but that granted her the peace and quiet to process that he wasn't in fact a taken man. At least not by the woman Spencer thought was as the mother of his child. And a nephew instead of a son was the best revelation of all. The same one who liked Billie!

Then she waited for a call from him. Instead she got an urgent message from Selina, telling her excitedly to come down to Chicago for an interview, on local TV, about Billie. It was hectic, and absolutely exhausting.

Spencer was checking her phone all the time. There never was the notification she was waiting for.

After the conundrum she returned to Marquette emotionally bruised, but victorious. She didn't make a fool out of herself in front of the camera, managed to make sense most of the time, and, according to Selina, she looked delectable even though she was speaking of non-sexy stuff. A true Christmas Miracle, it seemed.

Brenda called once, and they went out for a beer and chat about the old times. The evening at the yellow house brewery, Blackrocks, turned out extremely pleasant. And she freely shared her thoughts on Barsad, which in turn led to Spencer learning that Bane had been doing some charity work up North. The whole crew travelled around fixing small problems for single parents and elderly people, all those who could not afford big renovations but sorely needed some help. Especially right before Christmas.

It was sweet and thoughtful, and Spencer felt like Scrooge, envious of Bane's time. But at least that explained why he didn't call.

_How long should a girl wait, anyway? Maybe he's just not into me after all. An almost-kiss is no declaration…_

She smiled weakly to Brenda and made plans for another meet-up after New Year’s, and then she wished her merry Christmas and left.

 

oOo

 

The lights on Washington Street were blinking merrily, reflecting in ribbons of colour on damp tarmac of the road, tinting the mounds of snow like rainbow syrup. It was only four in the afternoon and already the sun set down over the city, last remnants of light glowing with orange dusting on low hanging clouds.

She dialled up the number of the best Thai place in town and ordered Cashew Beef and owner Aoy’s signature Hot and Sour Soup. An hour until it would be ready for pickup, so she had a nice stroll ahead.

Spencer sighed and dragged her feet up the North 3rd St, intent on getting something out of this dreadful day. In the morning she barely could make herself roll out of bed, then when she finally forced herself to dress and walk downtown to the farmers market it turned out it was closed for winter already. For over a week. She never noticed when the days whooshed past.

Selina called once or twice, and spammed her inbox with concerned emails, but Spencer didn’t feel like replying more than a sentence or two, just enough to show she was alive. At least the writing was going forward, the next thriller was mostly done, at least the first draft. The next Billie book however didn’t move an inch further to completion.

Caps of snow on the roofs she passed were soft as pillows. Which reminded her of her bed, and inevitably, of the stupid minute she was there, under Bane, and did absolutely nothing. For the thousandth time, she wondered. Was he really interested? If so, why didn’t he do more then? And why did he just leave? Why didn't he text or made plans for when he would be back from his charity tour?

The thought of calling him to ask him out was a permanent fixture in her mind. But she couldn't make herself do it. As the days passed, her excitement waned and the ounce of confidence she used to have dissolved like foam on a beer. How could she just ask him to come to a pub with her? What if they met someone he knew and she'd embarrass him and herself with some blunder? What if he wouldn't like her and after one meeting it would be all over, this time - definitely?

She groaned and straightened her scarf, picking up her pace a bit.

_A warm meal and some beer should pick me up._

Of course, a warm body and some chocolate would be better, but no chance for any of those in the foreseeable future. Unless she took the matters in her own hands.

The thought gave her pause right when the Superior Dome emerged from behind sloped roofs and tangled wires over the street. She mulled it over waiting for her food between groups of uni students, on her way back home, and sitting by the kitchen table, slurping down the soup. Then it occurred to her, when she was sitting on the couch with her beer, looking at the last one waiting on the pass-through window counter.

She just needed to build enough courage to call Bane and invite him in.

She needed a reason.

Getting up and walking to put the bottle in the refrigerator for tomorrow she sighed heavily.

Just what in the hell would be a good reason to call her contractor, when all the work has been done perfectly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the best problem ever - way too much material at hands. You know what that means, right?


	23. Last Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's double posting day, so make sure you've read the previous chapter as well!

oOo

Coconut Brown American Brown Ale

Blackrocks Brewery

_ Simple and straightforward, trailed with a weird funk. Oh well. _

oOo

  
The last beer in her advent calendar was rumored to be absolutely delicious and Spencer made a proper celebration of drinking it. She froze the glass beforehand, and prepared some snacks to go along. She even lighted a few candles, despite it being early afternoon. Now, sitting on the couch with a bowl of nuts and a plate of corn puppies she was steeling herself before her plan for getting in touch with Bane could be realized. 

_ Some liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss.  _

Of course, it wasn’t the end of her stash. She had still some doubles in a cupboard in the kitchen, and a few cans and bottles she didn’t have the opportunity to sample before. UP was truly a beer-lover’s paradise as of late.

The drink was luscious and complex, and she savored every sip. Not that she tried to draw the inevitable out, she just liked her beer. And salty nuts. And hot dogs fried in batter.

Three hours later and she sat up straight on the couch, phone in hand, with her lips drawn into a thin line, face scrunched into a grimace of determination and resolve. 

_ What if he won’t be home? What if he won’t come? What if…? _

“Mrs. P.?”

“Oh, yes. Spaced out, sorry. Um, hi.”

“Hello there.”

As always, the sound of his low and rumbling voice sent chills down her spine.

“You called to have a chat?” Bane's inquiry sounded almost playful. Definitely not impatient with her prolonged pause.

“No, actually, I have an emergency.”

“Do you now?” The doubt was dripping from every syllable. 

“Yes, I accidentally drove a nail through a pipe. I think.”

“I see. I’ll send someone immediately.”

_ Oh no. _

“Could you come?” Spencer said urgently.

“I’m not a plumber.”

“But it's a complete calamity. The wall, I mean. I think I need your expert advice to deal with that.”

“Indeed?”

“Oh yes. I mean, I don’t think I can trust anyone new with my apartment and all.”

“And all,” he echoed. “I see. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Great.”

The phone bounced off the cushions, left forgotten as Spencer ran through the apartment to get a hammer and some nails.  

The plan was to put a nail through the pipe, and make it look as if she did it on accident while hanging picture frames. The idea itself wasn’t eccentric, even if the placement and positioning of the frames was. 

Spencer turned the water off and measured carefully the places to nail the pictures to. She took a deep breath and started with the one that was supposed to be exactly over the pipe. 

Sharp metal slid into place and pierced the wall easily. 

_ Right.  _

With a deep breath she hit it again. It drove deeper, with slight difficulty. Then she hit it once more.

_ Is this it? About as exciting as stealing a library book.  _

There was no wet stain around the nail, nor a murmur of running water. She held her ear to the wall to gauge if maybe it was dripping slowly, but no. No sound whatsoever.

_ What now? I told him it’s a calamity. _

In a stroke of genius, she got the nail out, determined to drive it in again, just to make sure she hit the right spot and to the desirable depth. But that turned out to be unnecessary. As soon as she took the metal away thin ribbon of water spewed from the crack.

_ Bingo! _

She grinned and watched the water flow down, pooling on the floor. Her grin faded when she realized it will all be soaked up by the wooden panels.

“Oh, no. Oh, shit!”

Reflexively, she tried to stop the leak with her hands. This one step she forgot about. How not to ruin her house now? And possibly her downstairs neighbour’s as well? Frantically she tried to think of a way to keep the water from escaping the pipe.

_ What if it’s leaking down the wall from the inside? _

The hole was low, somewhere around her stomach, so she kneeled and took a hammer. Few knocks and the plaster cracked enough to let the pipe show. Then, with the thin end she pried the drywall away, exposing the pipe underneath, and the gash oozing liquid. 

The pressure died down enough so that the water only trickled when she ran to the kitchen to get a towel. Somehow she managed to lodge it so that it soaked up the moisture, while she hastily nailed the other two frames above it. 

_ Now it does look like an accident. Good. _

She barely had time to survey the damage and brush the hair out of her face when the intercom rang its short tune.

**  
  
**


	24. Madness, Pure Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crazy, so why don't I post the third chapter of the day?

oOo

Furious George III 

Jasper Ridge Brewery

_ An incredible balance for something this unstable. _

oOo

 

Spencer’s heartbeat picked up a notch and she grinned when she pressed the buzzer, not even bothering to ask who it was. She ran to the door and unlocked it, then sprinted back to the wall to hold up the towel and appear engrossed in saving her apartment.

The doorbell rang, twice in a short succession.

Spencer had a strange pulling sensation in her stomach, a deja vu creeping on her in her peripheral.

“It’s open,” she shouted.

Thud of boots in the entryway made her inhale sharply and bite her lower lip. Bane emerged from around the corner still with his jacket on, at once surveying the damage, his eyes alert.

“Hello,” she smiled weakly. Her knees buckled a bit at the sight of him, and her voice came out somewhat squeaky.

Just the sight of him was enough for Spencer's heart to flutter, leaving her chest painfully constricted with want. The flicker of fondness in his smile was enough to make her blood sing with excitement, the sight of his broad frame in her house led to inevitable ideas popping up behind her eyelids. The possibilities. The dreams. 

He hummed in response to her greeting, nodding slightly and nonchalantly throwing his jacket behind him on the couch. He was so at home here he didn’t even have to look. Then, he scaled the corridor and crouched beside her, putting a toolbox beside his feet.

“The main valve?”

“Turned off. I think most of the water already leaked out of the pipe.”

“Allow me?”

Spencer moved away, but not too far, and watched him inspect the damage.

"If I didn't know better, I'd suspect a subterfuge," he noted.   
She paled, and bit her lip to hold back a whimper. Of course he noticed it wasn’t just a regular malfunction from wear and tear. 

_ Well, fuck. _   
"Oh my God, really?" she asked, her tone superficially high, praying he’d believe she had no idea what he was talking about. Trying her best to fake true concern she dared a peek over his shoulder. Not that she looked at the pipe; her bowed chest was so close to his back she felt intense heat radiating off of him in waves.    
He smelled like chemicals and leather.   
She felt him looking at her, a twist of his head she caught in her peripheral. If she turned just a little bit to the right she could kiss him. She gulped and straightened and he followed her movement, wiping his hands with a cloth.   
"Really," he said.   
"What?"   
His lips stretched in a smirk, head tilted back and brows shot up in an unmistakable expression of contempt. Amused, but still, he sneered down at her blunder.

The pipe was patched up with a piece of black tape, and that was it. Bane glanced around one last time, then rubbed his hands on his thighs and got up with a little grunt.

Then he looked down at her pensively.    
"Ms P.," he sighed, shaking his head like a father disappointed with the behaviour of his favourite child. "You do have my mobile number. You know how to use it. Why on Earth did you feel the need to destroy your own property to get in touch?"   
A blush was on her cheeks before he even finished his first word. She grasped her elbow and looked to the side, biting on her lip again. 

_ Well, fuck, once again.  _

He was absolutely right, she could just call and ask him out, like a normal functioning adult.   
"Now, I don't say that to make you feel uncomfortable. You succeeded in punishing yourself quite effectively."   
"What do you mean?" She asked, finally rising her gaze to his eyes, brows knitted in concern.   
"The shops are closed. I don't have spare parts at hand. You will have no water for the remainder of the holidays."    
A gasp was all she managed. Absolutely fantastic. She played herself good.

“Fortunately for you I do have a spare guest bedroom. You can stay with me. No strings attached.”

She looked up at him, an embarrassed blush and frown marring her usually composed facade.

“I think it's best if I don't intrude on your privacy any more than I already did. I'll book a room somewhere.”

“Nonsense,” he threw over his shoulder while picking up his tools. “If you would just call me to ask me out you could have been in the main bedroom anyway.”

She gasped at his audacity. Okay, she was obviously attracted to him, but did he really have to be this obnoxious?

“I'm really fine, thank you.” The unmistakable spite in her voice made him smirk again.

“You sure, love?”

“Positive.”

“As you wish.”

She watched him go. 

_ What did he say earlier? If she asked him out… _

“Although,” her voice stopped him on his way out. With stiff neck he turned his head a little to the side, not to lose a word. 

“I think I owe you at least a dinner for the fatigue.”

“You most certainly do,” he agreed, smiling. 

_ Quick save. _   
“I don't think anything suitable is open though.”

_ Well, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

She actually must have murmured that out loud, because he chuckled.

“Come. No point being coy. You're interested and so am I.”

She bit her lip and nodded.


	25. Where Do We Go From Here?

oOo

Ski Bum American Dark Wheat Ale

Ore Docks Brewing Company

_A winter wonderland revelation._

oOo

 

Ride to Bane's apartment was quietly awkward. Spencer got her necessities in a bag in record time, then he gallantly escorted her out and to his car. She texted her brother that she'll be staying with a friend at following address, but didn't specify gender of the friend. Just in case. He would think she meant Selina, and that was good enough.

Bane drove steadily and surely, never speeding nor dawdling. He chose the fastest, most efficient route and was focused on the road while he did it.

Radio was off, of course, so the only thing left for Spencer to do was either looking out of the window or at Bane.

She tired of watching the town after two minutes. Contemplating how his muscled forearms shifted and stretched while he operated the wheel was much more interesting. White button down was still rolled up to his elbows, and he didn't put his jacket on. The only addition to his attire were the gloves, the ones she loved, black leather clinging to his palms in buttery smooth finish, perfectly fitted and highlighting golden skin peeking from under the cuts on his knuckles and the top of the hand. Her hands itched to caress the coarse hair on the arm closest to her, dawny and thick, as masculine as it could be.

How would it feel to grab onto them, while anchoring herself on his body, while the muscles rippled in an effort to make her gasp and shiver?

“Wake up,” he said, his tone amused and warm.

She blinked out of her daydream to discover they were there already, in Bane's driveway. Straightening her skirt she wiggled in her seat, shifting her hips to ease at least a hair of tension between her thighs.

His eyes shifted momentarily down.

“Shall we?”

“Sure,” she reminded herself she was going to be excellent. Just staying with him for a day or two.

_Nothing had to happen. Although, he did say he was interested. Did he mean dinner or…?_

“If you’re poorly I could carry you upstairs,” he proposed. She spaced out again, long enough he was standing by her door, open now, with his palm offered to help her out.

Spencer blushed again, shaking her head in mute dismissal of his offered help.

“I'm sorry, I was just lost in thoughts.”

Bane shrugged and stepped back to allow her ample space to disembark.

Then she gasped, realizing what an opportunity she had missed. Nevertheless, she slid out onto the driveway. Before she had a chance to look around Bane already closed the car door, tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, and set towards the porch carrying her Boston bag.

“I surmised as much,” he commented on her last sentence when they scaled the stone path. “Were you far away?”

“Not at all. I was thinking about you.”

Something was happening to her head. She gasped again and covered her traitorous mouth with one palm.

_What the hell was that?_

“This makes everything much easier,” he noted. Gallantly, he escorted her to the swing on the porch.

“Am I really this transparent?“

He was standing before her, observing with a smirk.

“Not at first. But I was goading you.”

“You're impenetrable. I never know what you think. I was wondering if you were making fun of me.” She pretended to be assertive, with hands folded over her chest, and a determined frown on her face. Maybe he wouldn’t notice how she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check.

“I told you. I am interested.“

“You didn't specify in what,” she pointed out, watching him methodically work the locks with myriad of keys. She didn't peg him paranoid, but he certainly was thorough.

“I would like to get to know you better.” The matter of fact statement was disappointing, at least until he spoke again. “Starting with your body.” That got Spencer’s attention. Bane finished with the locks and turned towards her. “I would like to know it intimately.” He helped her up, warm palm fleetingly touching her back, guiding her way to his door.  “Immediately, if you don’t mind.”

How could he be so perfectly calm about it, while she could barely walk for the trembling in her thighs?

“Do you ever lose your composure?”

“Of course.”

“I'd like to see that,” she murmured.

“I think that wish could be granted. Welcome into my humble abode.”

She didn't have time to look around.

As soon as the door clicked shut, and Spencer moved to slide off her parka, he flicked a single lock in place, then he lifted her up with fluidity of movement that was baffling and unexpected for someone so big and broad. Before she registered the sensation of being carried, he pressed her to the wall, back plastered against cold concrete, legs hooked on his hips.

And then she felt.

His hands supporting her by holding her butt. His chest pressing onto her, heaving with breaths that were too deep and too measured to be natural. His lips inches from hers, head angled, tip of his nose, cold, touching her cheek.

“Am I frightening you?” he inquired.

Spencer shifted her hips, legs looking for better purchase, hands grabbing his biceps for more mobility. It was like holding on to a statue, he never moved and his muscles were taut and hard.

All of his muscles.

“You're exciting me,” she confessed.

“Timid Ms Parker is enticed by power. Who would have thought,” he mocked, watching her throat work as she gulped down a whimper.

“What are you enticed by, Bane?“ she murmured into his mouth. Their lips touched in fleeting caress while she spoke, soft and dry, tingling and tantalizing.

Neither of them moved in for the kiss yet.

“Contradictions,” he said at length, grinding up slightly. His palms moved from her ass to the back of her thighs and he growled, pressing impossibly closer.


	26. Contradictions

oOo 

Ski Bum American Dark Wheat Ale

Ore Docks Brewing Company

_A winter wonderland revelation._

oOo

 

Neither of them moved in for the kiss yet.

“Contradictions,” Bane said at length, grinding up slightly. His palms moved from her ass to the back of her thighs and he growled, pressing impossibly closer. One hand shifted to Spencer’s jaw and he held her steady, pressing a hard demanding kiss on her lips.

She moaned, relishing each humid huff of air from his nose, twisting her fingers in his hair, scratching on his scalp and shoulder. He tasted like summer heat, spicy and forbidden, like skinny dipping in a lake after too many drinks.

Dangerous.

The hand at her jaw moved down to her neck and he held her there, the pressure steady and controlled. It prevented her from following his mouth as he moved away, panting, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

Spencer bit her lip and swallowed hard, enjoying the light pressure keeping her head to the wall.

“Still exciting?”

“Fuck yeah,” she panted out. Her hand fisted in his hair to try and bring him back to her face. “I want more and I want it now.”

“That’s coincidentally what I had in mind as well,” he murmured, resisting her pull. His eyes glinted with mirth and he had a shit-eating grin plastered on those perfect sexy lips.

Spencer flexed, rolling her hips on his groin, relishing hard press of his clothed cock and the warning growl he let out when she stretched her neck under his palm. His fingers tightened just a fraction and it sent an arrow of molten heat straight down to her panties.

“Stop trashing.”

“You’d have to pin me down.”

He frowned and let go of her throat.

“We should discuss it first.”

“I appreciate the consideration. But it’s not some shitty romance novel. We’re both adults.”

“You don’t know me. I could hurt you.”

“Do you want to hurt me?”

The outrage in his eyes was the answer she needed so she didn’t think of waiting for a verbal denial.

“I wanted you from the moment you answered my call. Now, we’re here, you’re hard, I’m wet. Let’s work this the way we both feel like it.”

“Safe word?”

“I thought ‘please stop’ or ‘don’t do that’ would suffice for now.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, lips turned into an upside-down ‘U’ for a brief while. “Couch okay?”

“Floor would be fine, as long as I can get you inside me.”

Bane laughed and grabbed her more securely, then swiftly set on his way to the living room.

Spencer used the opportunity to lick at the warm and slightly salty skin of his neck and shoulder, nipping occasionally and gauging Bane’s reactions by shifting of his palms and moans slowly forming in his throat.

He kneeled with one leg on the cushion of the couch and lowered Spencer to its softness. When he straightened she tried to follow him, but he directed one strong hand at her, pointing his finger somewhere to her chest.

“Stay.” The word was out like an order, mild and steady, nonetheless steely hard.

_Fuck, that was hot._

“Hands above your head.”

Spencer complied without hesitation, smirking up at him and flexing her thighs to ease a fraction of the tension that settled there.

Meanwhile Bane was unbuttoning his shirt, gazing down at her with a measuring air about him.

“I wonder how much you’ll be able to take, before it’s too much.” He took off his shirt, revealing a tan undershirt beneath. “I could fuck you so hard you’d have trouble walking tomorrow. If you’d want that.”

Spencer gasped, and closed her eyes for a second. This was just what she had in mind. He was nice and sweet day to day, but this harshness he showed now, this ragged confidence verging on aggression was just what she needed. It was grounding and exciting. She wanted him to lose himself in the experience, to see his wants unfiltered, with all grimy and dirty details.

She opened her eyes and mouth to deliver her reply, but he was already taking down her boots. She noticed the appreciative gleam in his eyes when he rolled her skirt up and saw she was wearing stockings, the dark fabric giving way to smooth skin at the very top of her thighs.

“I’m going to leave them on,” he rasped out. His fingers hooked gently at the waistband of the skirt and she lifted her hips to help him slide it down. “It’s going to look fucking beautiful.”

The talk was making her light-headed. Spencer smiled slyly and pressed her foot to his stomach, sliding under his shirt.

“What do I have to do for you to take this off?”

He grinned wolfishly and slowly licked his luscious lips.

The answer was hanging between them unspoken, when the doorbell rang into the quiet of the house. They both stilled, at once yanked out of the sultry mood.

“Do you expect anyone?” Spencer asked softly.

Bane frowned deeply, putting his shirt back on.

“No. Wait here.”

He hurried to the door, turning on the lights on his way.

Bright flash stabbed at Spencer’s eyes, and she rose to her feet briefly to put on her skirt. She heard voices in the hallway, Bane’s and some woman's. She made herself not listen, focusing instead on the room she could inspect for the first time.

It was barren, the airy space filled with only the essentials. The couch, big enough to be comfortable to someone Bane’s size. The TV standing on a low cabinet, all sharp angles and unadorned planes of wood. No knick-knacks, no flowers. A low and wide bookcase, filled with meticulously ordered volumes, all clumped in straight rows according to the size and colour. There was an armchair accompanied by a standing lamp and a small table, and that was it. No rugs, no vases, no sculptures. Sole picture of a group of men in green clothes.

The conversation by the door died down and she heard clicking of the locks. Then a staccato of light steps, hurried and excited. Way too soft to be Bane’s. They stopped abruptly.

She turned around to see a little boy staring at her from the corridor. The same child she saw in Bane’s arms at the Christmas parade. He was clutching a teddy bear and frowning up at her from behind the brown plush.


	27. Cookie Monster, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I totally forgot to mention that I have too many chapters, and want to finish posting before New Year's!

oOo

Blizzard Brown Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Milk chocolate, light roast, messy finish. _

oOo

 

“Don't stand in the doorway. Go on in and introduce yourself to our guest,” Bane said to the boy, himself still hidden somewhere in the corridor. 

The child looked up at him, nodded, then with a determined frown marched into the living room. He stopped just shy of Spencer’s personal space and held out a stiff hand.

“I’m Damian. I’m three years old and my mom is called Miranda. Nice to meet you, lady.”

Spencer shoved down the sudden urge to snort out a short laugh. The kid was beyond adorable, with his plump face all serious and brooding. She gracefully crouched to get on his level.

“Nice to meet you, Damian. My name is Spencer Parker.”

That information got his attention. His pretty black eyes rounded with excitement and he seemed to forget about reserved behavior, because he clutched his teddy with such force the little toy would be strangled to death if it wasn't an object.

“Are you Billie?”

“Oh, she is not based on me. But I created her, yes.”

With a smile she sent a wink Bane's way and moved to sit on the couch. “Why don't you tell me what you think about her, hmm?”

Damian nodded resolutely, a gesture eerily familiar to Bane's pensive nod, and climbed up on the cushions beside her.

Meanwhile, the man of the house was still surveying their interaction from the corridor. Spencer dared another glance his way. He looked oddly relieved. 

“I liked how she fought Tommy the Lion. She's strong. Like Mommy.” Damian’s little voice brought Spencer's attention back to him. 

“Your mommy is a doctor, right?”

“A surgeon,” he corrected proudly. “Surgeon is better than just a doctor.”

“That's right, they need much more training.” She watched as the boy beamed up at her concession.  A thought came to her then. 

“And they also need more courage.”

“Mommy's very brave.“

“I bet. And she's also very beautiful.”

“She says the best beauty is that felt with your heart, not seen on the face.”

“That’s wise. Do you understand what she means?”

“Not really.”

She chuckled, but didn’t want the boy to feel bad, so immediately she asked him another question.

“So, you like when Billie fights and you like brave people. What else?”

“I like Uncle Bear!” He perked up visibly, grinning and bouncing slightly on the couch.

“Huh?” Spencer tilted her head. Then it downed. “Oh, Bane?”

_ You called him Big Bad Bear yourself, Spence. Not very original, it seems. _

Meanwhile Damian was set on educating her on the proper name of person in question.

“Uncle Bear.”

“I like him too.” She said to avoid arguing and difficult explanations.

“Are you his girlfriend?”

_ Whoops. I wish.  _

“We are friends. He fixed a room for me two weeks ago, and today mended a leaking pipe. He's very capable.” 

“What's capa..?” Poor baby couldn’t cope with pronunciation of the new word, but he seemed determined to understand the definition.

“It means that he knows how to do many things.”

“He made Osito!” The boy held out the teddy bear like a prize.

“What, himself?”

“Mhm, Uncle Bear had one just like this when he was littler and now I have my own. So I don't fear the shadows.”

“That's very smart. A bear protector.”

“But I asked him to make cookies and he didn't know how.”

Spencer leaned conspiratorially towards him and held a palm over her mouth, pretending she didn’t want to be overheard.

“Cookies can be tricky. You need some experience with them. “

“Do you know how to make cookies?” Damian whispered back excitedly.

“What kind are you interested in?”

“Gingerbread!“

The last part was out in a very loud voice, but Spencer pretended that it didn’t matter.

Bane looked like he was muffling a laugh.

“I can make those. Provided Uncle Bear will have ingredients in his kitchen, and agrees to let us use it of course.”

Before she could think of asking Bane, Damian hurriedly slid down and padded to the man himself.

“Please Uncle Bear, can the lady make cookies?”

“It's Ms Parker, Damian.“ Bane corrected. “And you should use ‘may’ not ‘can’, we talked about it.”

“May Ms Parker make cookies?” The boy tried again. He was so damn adorable Spencer was afraid for a moment she would eat him alive. The sweetest child, so solemn and honest.

Bane feigned some trepidation, stroking his beard pensively.

“Yes, I don't see why not.” He nodded in the end. 

“Oh, I think there was a little misunderstanding,“ Spencer said and smiled mischievously. “I require an assistant or two. Cookies are complex, I don't think I can manage on my own.”

“But of course,” Bane grinned, “What do you say, Damian. Shall we help our guest?”

“Yeah!” The boy squealed like only three year olds can, with both excitement and abandon, throwing his head back and waving his arms like a madman. Then he ran straight to the kitchen, and the adults could only follow. 

 

oOo

 

Gingerbread turned out nice, although in pretty limited shapes. Bane only had three cutters, one round and two stars. They looked handmade, and led Spencer to more than one daydream about exact extent of his capabilities. 

As the cookies were cooling down she and Damian were pressured into eating a healthy dinner first. Something both of them reluctantly agreed to, but only with long suffering sighs and after some prolonged stares at the tray of gingerbread. But Bane bribed them with promises of hot chocolate for dessert, so that was a good trade.

In the end, they all huddled up on the couch, mugs of dramatically different sizes in hands, a tray of cookies on the coffee table and a movie from Netflix on the TV. Spencer chose the old version of ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’, after boys admitted they haven't seen it yet. She let out a full on gasp and refused to watch anything else, so Bane and Damian shared a knowing look and just relented.

It was fun. Bane snorted at all the inaccuracies, and laughed in all the wrong places. Damian frowned up whenever Slugworth appeared on screen, and he was so engrossed into the story he commented on everything. Spencer hummed and sang along to all of the songs. 

When the part when Augustus fell into the chocolate river came on screen Damian turned to Spencer.

“Mommy would have rescued me if I was in the river,” he bragged.

“She wouldn’t just stand on the bank, that’s for sure,” Bane agreed.

At one point, during the boat ride scene, Damian huddled close to Bane, scowling at the loud unpleasantness and holding his palms over Osito’s ears to spare him the noise. The man hugged him close with a warm smile, while Spencer tried not to watch them too longingly. 

_ Who had the stupid idea to sit Damian in the middle? Bane would be more optimal in his place, he could cuddle us both… _

The movie ended and Bane refused to watch ‘Despicable me’. 

“Tomorrow,” he promised Damian. “Before Miranda comes back from work. Now, go shower and brush your teeth, and I’ll prepare your bed.”

Spencer was surprised when the boy just sighed but turned obediently towards the staircase.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Goodnight Ms Parker.”

“I’ll be back when I tuck him in, make yourself at home,” Bane said to Spencer and followed the child.

She was at a loss for a moment. Not like she could just spy through his cupboards, or go on a tour of the ground floor. There was not very much to see anyway, and she suspected it wouldn’t really be fun without a guide. She decided to put on something to watch and just wait until they could resume their activity from before Miranda dumped Damian on them.

The kid was charming; the perfect blend of behaved and naturally curious. Still tooth-achingly sweet in general, but showing very sharp intelligence as well. 

And he called Bane ‘Uncle Bear’.

How adorable was that?

  
  
  
  



	28. Cookie Monster, Part Two

 

oOo

Blizzard Brown Ale

Keweenaw Brewing Company

_ Milk chocolate, light roast, messy finish. _

oOo

 

Damian didn't make much of a fuss, but still putting him in bed took a good half an hour. Bane used that time to prepare both spare bedrooms for his guests, make sure his nephew cleaned his ears, he even joined Damian in brushing his teeth and eventually read him a bedtime story. One of Spencer’s Billie books. They debated whether it would be rude or not to call the writer herself for a quick read, but both agreed to ask her first how she felt about it.

When Bane came downstairs he practically danced down the steps, patting the railing and licking his lips. The taste he got earlier in the afternoon was intoxicating and he didn’t mind sampling more. Granted, Damian sleeping upstairs complicated the logistics a bit, and it would be a challenge to keep Spencer quiet enough, but that seemed more enticing than discouraging.

The TV played some movie, with a platinum blonde in a blue velvet sweatsuit looking down dispassionately like an android. Bane raised both eyebrows in speculation. 

“What are you watching?”

There was no answer and when he neared the couch he saw why. Spencer was curled in the corner, legs hid beneath her skirt like a blanket, hugging a small cushion to her chest and resting her head on the armrest. So delicate, so peaceful. He could hardly believe it was the same woman who asked him, in no uncertain terms, to fuck her on the floor if need be. Just a short few hours earlier.

Crouching down before her he slid an errant lock of hair behind her ear. He couldn't resist the urge, and the movement turned into a gentle caress, pads of his fingers tracing the edge of her earshell, smoothing down her neck…

She woke up with a pleased hum.

“Oh, how long was I out?”

“Not too long,” he murmured.

“Your nephew is a good boy,” she praised and yawned. “Such a clever kid.”

“He gets it after his mother.”

Spencer smiled, but then hid her face under one hand.

So damn adorable.

“I was so jealous of her, you know.”

The confession made Bane grin. Good thing she was still pretending to hide like a kindergartner.

“Indeed?”

“I thought she was your wife. I saw you guys together at the parade.”

The explanation made him chuckle.

“Is this why you were so cold on that Monday?”

“Yup,” she murmured, sleepily cuddling more comfortably into the armrest.

“Come on, I’ll carry you upstairs,” he offered.  

“But we were supposed to fuck,” she whined, stretching slightly. Her joints popped audibly and she gasped.

“I’m going to take a rain check on that. Preferably to a place or time where I can make sure we won't be interrupted.”

“I agree,” she groaned out and let him slide his strong arms under her legs and back. 

Bane picked her up as if she weighted nothing at all, and set on his way upstairs. He didn't wobble going up, and set her gently onto the bed.

“This is not your bedroom, is it?”

“It’s not. My room is the one opposite. Damian is in a room to the right and to the left you have a bathroom.”

“Why can’t I sleep with you?” She asked this like a petulant child, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Bane let her pull him down. 

“You wouldn’t get any sleep in my bed,” he practically groaned out.

“Promises, promises…”

He kissed her goodnight, a long and filthy kiss. He still could taste chocolate and spices on her tongue. She moaned so breathlessly when he bit her lips, and sighed when his palm circled her hip.

“Tomorrow,” he growled. “When Miranda takes Damian home.”

Spencer only hummed, already falling back asleep.

Bane sighed and straightened up. He rubbed his eyes and smiled. 

What a long night ahead.

 

oOo

 

Spencer woke to the sound of a screaming child.

Well, it was more like squealing, but delighted not scared, if she judged correctly. With a sigh she straightened to sit and looked around the room. Apart from bed and a chair there was a bookshelf and a closet. But she liked it, the simplicity refreshing after so many overcrowded spaces she knew. The walls were painted a very pretty shade of green. Emerald, the writer inside her suggested. 

Her bag was by the chair, and Spencer took it and cautiously peeked out. The voices she heard were coming from downstairs, and by the sound of it Bane was playing with Damian.

“Good morning, I’mma take a shower and get down to you guys,” she shouted down, unsure of the proper etiquette.

“Breakfast in twenty minutes,” they shouted back in unison.

_ Damn, I need to hurry! _

She showered in record time, relieved to find a stack of towels prepared with a little note from Bane. She slid it into the bag, happy to have a souvenir. 

_ What a weird Christmas. _

With her hair still damp she jogged down, nearly tripping on her simple, flowing dress with close fitting long sleeves. She had stockings on again, mindful of Bane’s appreciation of the garment the day before. And really nice lacy underwear. She even packed some flats, so that she didn’t have to go around barefoot.

When she entered the living room Bane was in the middle of flinging Damian in a circle. 

She whimpered, terrified.

But it seemed to be a well-rehearsed pastime, as he effortlessly ended the broad gesture with an elegant twist and then set the boy safely on the ground. Damian wobbled a bit, but had a silly grin firmly in place.

“Hi!” He shouted. “There’s pancakes for breakfast.”

“Oh yes!” Spencer exclaimed. “I love pancakes.”

Damian ran to her and grabbed her hand to pull her over to the kitchen.

“Do Billie like them too?”

“Billie does like meat, mostly. I don’t think she ever had a chance to try a pancake.”

“That’s a shame,” Bane noted. He was already by the stove, all his tools prepared, toppings neatly arranged in bowls on the table beside the plates and mugs.

“Well, she has no molars to chew with, so I think pancakes would be a lost treat on her.”

“I have to pee.”

“Go on, run to the bathroom,” Bane shrugged. He was standing with his back to the table, fiddling with the gas range.

Damian hurried out.

On cue, Spencer slid towards the kitchen island. Bane met her halfway, grabbing her by the hips and pressing deliciously close. He crowded Spencer against the cupboard, pushing his hips to hers and hugging her to her chest. She used the opportunity to slide up onto the counter, and Bane eagerly fitted himself between her parted thighs.

“I have to confess something,” he murmured. His lips brushed over Spencer's skin and she honestly didn’t care about what he said, instead she focused on the way his breath caressed the shell of her ear.

“Confess away,” she whispered, running her hands down his back. 

_ How long does a regular kid use the bathroom for? _

He hitched her closer still and nipped the sensitive spot on her neck.

“I heard you working on that pipe.”

“What?”

“You forgot to end the call,” he clarified and sucked at her nape.

“Oh, God…”

“Also, I could have repaired that leak yesterday.”

“Really?” Her voice was breathless and she didn’t really care how needy it sounded. 

“Some putty and a special tape that I have, and it would easily hold on until well after Christmas.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He straightened and looked down at her with an unreadable expression. With his thumbs he stroked her jaw, tenderly and with great care, and then slid one hand down to her hips, bowing a little with the movement.

“I wanted you right where you are now.”

“What a coincidence,” she panted out, “that's exactly where I wanted to be.”

Bane chuckled and lowered his head a bit more for a kiss, long and luscious, and perfect if not for the fact that he pulled away too soon for Spencer’s liking. 

She managed to jump down and sit back at the table just before Damian came back.

“Did you wash your hands?” Bane asked, flipping three fluffy pancakes with ease.

“Yes, uncle Bear.”

“When’s Miranda coming over?”

Spencer hoped the urgent note in her voice wasn’t too obvious to the boy swinging his legs happily on the chair opposite her.

“Around noon. I think we’ll finish breakfast and then start on the lunch. She’ll stay until the evening.”

“Uncle Bear and Uncle John have a surprise for me.”

_ Did Bane actually blush just now? _

“What, Barsad will be here?”

“We have an arrangement,” her host said, stroking his beard with a meaningful wink. “He lost a bet.”

_ Wait, if Bane’s Santa does that mean... Barsad will be his Little Helper? _

She cackled bowing down over the table.

Then Bane came with the frying pan and they had a perfectly pleasant Christmas morning over pancakes with berries or jam. 

Not too much maple syrup though. That was frowned upon.

oOo


	29. Christmas Miracle, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the last chapter will be out tomorrow. No teasing!

 

oOo

Red Earth Pale Ale

Jasper Ridge Brewing Company

_ Prickly and coppery, an assault on the senses. _

oOo

 

“Mommy’s here!” Damian shouted from the living room. He had been waiting by the window since half past eleven, intent on greeting Miranda the moment she came onto the driveway.

“I’ll be right with you,” Bane shouted back. He took one last swig of his tea and stroked Spencer’s hand on the table. “Will you come with us?”

“Sure, in a minute. I’ll just hang back a bit.”

“Okay.”

He stood up and set on his way, but then Damian shouted again.

“It’s not Mommy! It’s a pretty lady. And a man!”

Bane frowned and glanced back briefly at Spencer. 

She followed closely behind him to the living room. When she saw from the window the pair, both looking around and checking something on the phone, she gasped.

“It’s Selina.”

The man looked oddly familiar…

“And Bruce Wayne,” Bane growled. His eyes never left the man, and Spencer was taken aback with the amount of disgust he showed. 

_ What’s the story there? _

“Damian, go to the kitchen and wait for me to get back for you. Spencer, you stay right here.”

“What? No! I’m going to ask her what the fu-,” she groaned, “what is she doing here out of the blue and with an owner of my publisher.”

Meanwhile, the visitors set towards Bane’s porch.

“Deal with them,” he ordered. For the briefest of moments something primal and volatile glimpsed in his eyes, the set of his shoulders and positioning of his head intimidating to no end.

Spencer gulped down a moan and suppressed a tremor in her thighs. 

_ What. The. Fuck. _

Unfortunately, now wasn't the time to consider how to make use of this side of him.

“Okay. Fine.”

She sprang out so fast Selina barely managed to get one foot on the steps leading to the door.

“Spence! How nice to see…”

“Stop.” Spencer held out her hand. “Turn back.” She motioned for them to go.

Wayne, a devilishly handsome man, she noticed, was frozen with a slightly disbelieving smile on his face.

“I’ve heard much about you Ms Parker and you surely do live up to the expectations.”

“Fantastic. But you really shouldn’t be here. It’s not my house.”

“Yeah, I heard. A friend’s,” Selina hissed, the last word especially drawn out. “Is this friend perhaps very good with his hands?”

“Perhaps,” grovelling voice came from behind Spencer’s back. 

Selina’s mouth fell slightly agape, while Wayne straightened with a frown.

“Mr Wayne is not welcome here.”

“I didn’t know it’s your house. Bane, was it?” The billionaire tried to turn back to his charm. To no effect.

“Let’s not stand on ceremony here,” the man answered mockingly. It was heavily implied that he had something entirely different in mind.

_ Oh my God, I’m going to cream my panties if he keeps behaving like this. _

“Selina, Mr Wayne. Let’s relocate to my apartment and have a little chat there, shall we?” Spencer suggested, her smile strained, but firmly there. 

Even though she felt Bane right behind her, so close, hot, menacing and seething with rage, and she wanted to climb him right then.

_ Well, there goes my self-respect and the notion that I’m not batshit crazy. _

“Sounds like a good idea,” Wayne agreed. He gallantly held out a hand to Selina. “Shall we?”

Before she accepted she fixed Bane with a very suspicious stare of her narrowed eyes. She resembled a cat, pondering whether to pounce or not. Then another car turned into the driveway, and all Hell broke loose.

 

oOo 

 

Miranda Tate stopped by Wayne’s SUV, but didn't get out on the driveway, eyes dispassionately surveying the scene before her. 

Bruce tensed when he noticed, immediately locking his stare on her.

“The whole family is here?” he asked.

“None of your business.” Bane's reply came out mocking again. But his shoulders rounded when he involuntarily prepared to the fight looming in the air between them.

Spencer smiled weakly at Miranda when she finally got out of her car. As always, her beauty was absolutely breathtaking, even after a night shift, and still in her yesterday's clothes. 

“Why are you harassing my brother?” was the first thing she said, directing her words at Selina. As if no other intruder was there.

“And who are you?”

“That's Miranda Tate. Bane's sister, apparently.” Sarcasm dripping from every syllable, Wayne informed Selina, seething with anger.

“Are you guys blood related?” Spencer whispered to Bane.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“So why are you so pissed at Bruce?” Selina asked loudly, cocky smirk firmly in place and one hand propped on her slender hip.

“It’s a family matter, please refrain from taking part in this discussion Ms Kyle.” Bane stated levelly. 

“If you’re her family, I’m his.” She crossed her arms and sent Bane a taunting look, complete with elegantly arched eyebrow.

Spencer looked from one person to another. Then she spotted Damian looking out of the living room window, watching them all from behind his teddy bear.

“You will take your friend, or whoever she is, and go back to your mansion or whatever it is you crawled out from.” Miranda ordered Bruce in a quiet but powerful voice. Somehow it was perfectly audible, even though Spencer could have sworn he didn’t raise her volume even a degree over what was proper. 

“I won’t let you boss me around this time, Miranda.”

“Get out of here,” Bane growled. 

“Why don’t you make me.”

That was all the invitation Bane needed. He grinned in a way that made Spencer freeze in anticipation. Like a wolf who spotted a vulnerable fowl away from its herd.

In a second he lunged forward, fists fast like lightning directe straight at Wayne’s sternum. It glanced off the mark, gracefully deflected. Instead of attacking, Bane was on the defense now, as Bruce shot a rapid barrage of hooked punches. They were coming right and left, but all slid off of Bane’s powerful forearms, raised to protect his vitals. And then he kicked, hitting Wayne’s knee. Bruce went down, but not without a fight - he grabbed Bane in a bear hug and their combined weight was too much - along with all that kicking and flailing - and they fell down on the concrete. 

Then, the shouting begun.

“Why can’t you let me have a civilized conversation?” Bruce hissed out punching Bane’s side and back where he could reach.

“Why can’t you just go away and stop harassing her? Didn’t you hurt her enough?”

“I hurt her? She drugged me!”

Bane slid away with outstretched arms and paused his kicking. 

“She what?”

Wayne gingerly checked his bleeding nose.

“That part she omit huh? She gave me a sedative and then she slept with me.” His hands came out bloody, but he didn't wince too much when he touched his face, so that probably wasn't a fracture. 

Bane turned to Miranda, standing up in an instant.

“Did you?”

“Bane…”

“Did you do that?”

For once she lost her composure, and looked away from his outraged eyes.

“He was wounded and I had to sedate him to help. I calculated the dose incorrectly. It was a mistake.”

“So why did you sleep with him after?” He pressed.

“It was a mistake.” 

“Gee, thanks.” Wayne threw in from the pavement. 

“Mommy?” Damian was standing in the doorway, barely visible from behind Osito. “Why is Uncle Bear hurt?”

Bane wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. 

“I’m not hurt little one. Go back home.”

“Mommy?” Bruce echoed after the child, and kept looking between Miranda and Damian.

“Listen to Bane, go back inside,” the woman said evenly.

“I’ll take him,” Spencer offered. 

Miranda thanked her with a little nod, regal and graceful. However, before Spencer could reach out to take Damian’s hand, Selina crouched beside the boy.

“Hi there,” she said in her friendliest voice. “I’m Selina, Spencer’s friend.”

“I’m Damian. I’m three years old and my mommy is called Miranda. Nice to meet you, lady.”

Everyone fell silent after that.

Damian looked around, his lips starting to form a pout, chin trembling.

“Hey, you remember when Bilie went to visit Andy the birds family?” Spencer whispered to get his mind off of the adults around. “I think you can do what she did back then.”

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. 

“Mommy will be with you in a while, so I'll go with you. Why don't we have some of those gingerbreads in the meantime?”

The boy let her take his hand, and Miranda waved cheerfully to show him all was fine. Bane prowled away from Wayne and Selina, standing by his sister.

Spencer closed the door behind them, leading Damian to the kitchen.

“So, stars or round ones, which would you like?”

“I don't want cookies.” 

“I see.” 

The water drummed on the inside of the kettle when she filled it up. Pretending to make tea, she mulled over things to say. 

“You were very brave, to just let adults talk about the things they needed to talk about.”

“Mommy showed me a sign to hide.”

_ Did she? _

“Oh. That's smart, to have a sign for when you can't talk.”

“Uncle Bear taught mommy, and mommy taught me.”

“Do you think he would teach me too?”

“He says it's only for the people we love.“ Damian said resolutely. “If he loves you he will.”

The conviction in his eyes was endearing. 

Spencer prepared tea, then found some paper and crayons and set everything on the table. 

They were both focused on drawing new character for Billie books, when the front door opened and the sound of people crowding in the corridor filled up the silent house.

Miranda appeared first, going straight to pick up Damian and hug him close. She sent Spencer a thankful look from over his shoulder. For a moment, the pressure of previous half an hour eased, thread of gratitude and understanding stretching over both women. 

The Selina came in, uncharacteristically shyly peeking from the corridor, with Wayne and Bane in tow. 

“Listen, Damian.” Miranda set the boy on the floor and crouched before him. “Remember how I told you your father was somewhere far away?”

He nodded, intelligent eyes trained in her face.

“He came here today. I didn't know he will be here, and he didn't expect to see you. But here we are. Would you like to say hi?”

Everyone held in a breath in suspense.

A boom echoed from the porch, swiftly followed by a delicate tingling of dozens of tiny bells. 

“Ho-ho-hold on tight, for I have come to announce the the most important part of winter holiday!”

Spencer shrieked shortly in surprise, grasping Bane's arm. The moment when he materialized beside her totally escaped her notice, but she was glad she could press her chest to his bicep and watch wide eyed for the intruder at the door hidden safely behind his broad frame. 

There was an additional perk to her position.  She distinctly heard him whisper two words under his breath.

“Oh, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays you guys!  
> Remember, the best gift for a writer is KCS - Kudos, Comment and Subscribe!


	30. Christmas Miracle, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just one more chapter beyond that. I really did have too much material at hand.

****oOo

Red Earth Pale Ale

Jasper Ridge Brewing Company

_ Prickly and coppery, an assault on the senses. _

oOo

  
  


“You should stay here,” Bane cautioned Miranda. “Spencer, come with me.”

“Wait, what's going on?” Selina asked.

“I'll help,“ Bruce chimed in.

“Unnecessary,” was the only thing their host said before he whisked his woman away to the door. The writer managed only to flail her hands, trotting behind him in a hurry.

_ Did Lewis Carroll write the story of my life? _

Outside, a full-fledged Santa sleigh was waiting on the porch, complete with weaved mistletoe and ribbons galore. In front of it stood a red and green clad man, his handsome face cleanly shaven.

“Barsad?” Spencer managed to get out.

“What the hell, boss?” The man in question didn't hear her tiny voice, his full attention on Bane. “I thought we had a deal!”

“There were… unexpected developments.”

“Where’s your costume?”

“We have guests and I don’t think this scheme is going to be well received at this hour.”

“Is Damian injured? “

“Of course not. “

“Then he will enjoy the ride. A promise is a promise.“

He held up plush reindeer antlers decorated with blinking red lights. “Just tell Miranda to get this on her head, jump in your Santa costume, and we can go our merry way.”

Spencer inspected the sleigh. The front had stylized reindeers disguising the bike that powered the whole thing. There were reins coming all the way up to the bench out in front, and four seats in the main part in the back.

“How many people can get in here?”

“Six,” Barsad explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No wait, seven, two can seat on the bench.”

“We're not going to do this, Spencer.” Bane's grovelling voice was deep and his tone didn't leave a trace of doubt over his meaning.

“In the evening when Miranda takes Damian, you said.” She reminded him of the morning promise. “Will she do this with Bruce here?” 

“That son of a bitch Wayne is here?” Barsad straightened, at once alert and ready for action. Spencer never saw him this… awake. 

“He's been dealt with,” Bane assured.

“Apparently whatever happened between all of you, Miranda seemed to forget to mention some things.” 

Barsad practically jumped with curiosity, but Bane cut the thread with a simple wave of his hand. 

“I'll go ahead and get dressed, Barsad wait here, Spencer put on that reindeer hat and invite everyone to the ride.”

The decision was met with a groan from Barsad and a delighted giggle from Spencer.

“I'll make some hot chocolate,” she offered. “Are we going far?”

“Just a round or two in the forest here, so an hour at most. Hey, put some whisky into my drink, Bane keeps it in a cupboard over the fridge.”

 

oOo 

 

The ride was awkward at first. 

Barsad was driving, his elf costume contrasting sharply with bended white led lights around him, mimicking animal shapes. He waited for everyone to take their seats, and cheerfully greeted Damian when the boy appeared in the doorway.

As soon as he saw the sleigh, his little hands grasped Miranda’s palm, yanking her excitedly forward.

“Mommy, Santa will be here soon!”

“Yes darling, in a minute. We should go ahead and get in the sleigh.”

“Who wants to go for a ride?” Spencer asked and motioned for the adults to move forward. 

“By the looks of it you do,” Selina murmured when she sauntered to her seat. 

“Shut up, like you're the one to talk,” Spencer whispered back, inclining her head towards the billionaire who picked up Damian and set him safely by sitting Miranda. 

“Don't pretend you don't want Santa to ride you, Rudolf.”

“I don't have a red nose, I'm not Rudolph. I'm Rozalia the Reindeer, new character in Billie.“ She flicked out her tongue for good measure.

“It was my idea!” Damian caught the last sentence and practically jumped in his seat with excitement.  “And Ms Parker made little bear!”

“Two new characters?”

“It's the most magical part of the year.” Spencer snorted, climbing up onto the bench in front. “I don't see why we couldn't have Billie make some new friends.”

Just when she distributed the thermal mugs, which Bane had in abundance, a loud bang sounded from the house. Puff of black smoke rose from the chimney.

“It's Santa!” Damian whispered reverently. 

Spencer glanced back, but quickly turned her face away. Miranda was hugging her son close, but she was looking at Bruce, a defiant and protective stare directed straight at him. Selina was sprawled close to the side, holding the edge of the sleigh with nearly as much anticipation as Damian in her eyes.

Bane prowled towards the door, a flash of red rimmed with white flashing in the living room window. 

“He's been inside!” 

“Do you think he left you a present?”

“But we have a tree at home, not at Uncle Bear’s!”

The dispute was cut short when the door opened. There was a brief flash, some smoke and at the end a shimmering cloud of glitter serenely fell down on the porch.

Bane emerged from the house, dressed as Santa. His beard was powdered white, and the belly was bulging comically out over wide black belt, the scarlet coat stuffed with some kind of pillow. White wig peeked from under the traditional conical hat, angelic curls meshing awfully with Bane's angular face. 

“Uncle Bear?” Damian asked incredulously. 

“Ho, ho, ho,” Bane boomed, an exaggerated wink sent the boy’s way. “Who here has been naughty, who has been nice? Did you check and ask, my loyal companion?”

“Aye, boss, I have a report to make.” Barsad chuckled from his seat. “There is a doctor in your sleigh, the nicest and smartest of them all. With her boy, who made his bed in the morning, and brushed his teeth, and remembered to clean behind his ears.”

“But there are others you do not report on. Is there anyone vouching for them?”

The question seemed too honest, too risky to ask in the middle of a family drama. 

“I'm vouching for Bruce,“ Miranda smiled slyly at Damian, “Without him we wouldn't have the Little Bear here.” 

Spencer blushed, hearing the name of her character used as an endearment. She bit her lip when everyone looked expectantly at her, waiting for a verbal affirmation that Selina was welcome in the sleigh.

“Um, well... Selina has been a little naughty this year,” she started somewhat hesitantly. 

Bruce tensed, then straight out giggled in his hand. 

“She sure had been!”

Barsad snorted from his perch out in front. 

“However, she made sure that Billie was out in the world, safely delivered to the children just in time for Christmas, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice and all that. So, as Rozalia the Reindeer, I welcome you all into Santa's sleigh. “

“Very well,“ Bane rumbled and climbed swiftly up in his place. “We need some fuel to move.“

“What's the fuel for the sleigh?”

“Christmas songs!”

To the astonishment of all, Bane gave Barsad the signal to start and immediately started singing himself. 

“It's the most wonderful time of the year…”

 

oOo 

 

Carolling took up a little over half an hour. The sleigh plowed through the snowy wilderness, the trail through the forest truly looking like a winter wonderland. Bruce went on and on about someone named Alfred organizing him similar rides when he was a kid, and Selina started not one but three songs which had only the melody of carols but we're about something entirely different. Barsad, miffed about getting chilli powder in his hot chocolate, participated in those as much as he could, gleefully shouting lyrics of Santa taking down the stockings, while mortified Spencer sat red-cheeked beside stony faced Bane. 

They arrived back at Miranda’s house, which turned out to be the one right next to Bane's, and had a surprisingly amiable dinner. Bane disappeared for fifteen minutes, came back dressed in a horrible sweater, an absolutely nauseating shade of green with white ornaments and ‘It’s the most wonderful time for a beer!’ in big bold red letters. Spencer had to hold on to the table, or else she’d jump him right then. He  cooked everything, accepting only tokens of help like peeling the potatoes or cutting up carrots, treating them all to a very satisfying dinner. 

Bruce talked quietly with Miranda in the living room, his eyes barely ever moving off Damian. 

The boy himself looked like he just took the whole ordeal in stride and enjoyed all the attention and cheer.

And then evening came, and they had to arrange who slept where. Barsad escaped right after dessert, so he was out of the discussion anyway. Out of habit, Spencer offered her apartment to Selina and Bruce. 

“No water,” Bane reminded.

“Oh, right.“

“You will stay at my place,” Bane said quietly. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I have two guest bedrooms.”

The magnanimous offer was met with a respectful nod from Bruce and a relieved smile from Selina.

“We'll just need some spare clothes then, “Spencer's friend noted. “Since we didn't plan on staying longer than a day.”

“It can be arranged,” Bane reassured her with a small smile. “I'll donate some clothes for Mr Wayne, and I'm sure Spencer will have something suitable for you.”

“You do love my style.”

“We'll let you settle in while I take Spencer to her apartment, how about that?”

Everyone nodded, and only Spencer was left looking a bit incredulously at the table.

_ Three guests, two bedrooms… Where does that leave me? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I posted that mostly because I can't go to sleep yet. It's been nice Christmas up until the point where my hubby's granny started having trouble breathing. We're still waiting for the conclusion of the check-up, and I'm itching to do anything that would keep my mind off of this.  
> Ehh, life.


	31. Just Some Water, Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to all who wished well to Grandma , it worked and she's going back home! Yay!
> 
> This IS the last part of the story, no more teasing anymore.  
> I hope you will enjoy. :D  
> *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

**oOo**

**Just Some Water, Please**

**oOo**

  
  


“Finally, a minute of peace.”

A guttural grunt was all Bane offered in terms of an answer. The locks clicked as he methodically closed the door. 

“The pipe looks okay,” Spencer reported from the hallway as she walked past. 

Bane's steps thudded behind her, a testament to his exhaustion. She remembered how during their first meeting he threaded so carefully it amazed her. Now, it was as if a predator was behind her, tracing her path and letting her know he was onto her.

It was oddly arousing.

Coming into the room she went straight to the armoire for some fresh clothes. 

“May I have a request of you?”

The question startled her. Spencer turned to see him sitting on her bed, elbows resting on his knees, palms loosely linked together.

“What is it?” She croaked. 

“Come here.”

That was an order, there was no mistaking it for a request. Still, the tone of Bane's voice wasn't hard, the volume of it didn't raise even an octave. But Spencer knew that anyway, she felt it in the tingle beneath her skin. Maybe it was a shift in pressure, or change in intensity of his gaze. Maybe he inclined his head a bit.

She stepped slowly towards him, stopping at the edge of the platform. It was like an abyss was behind her, instead of a three step drop. But if Bane meant something else than she thought it might as well be a canyon. 

He straightened, his spine crackling with the release of tension, and twisted his head to both sides. 

Spencer smiled down at him and slid her hands through the surprisingly delicate skin at the sides of his neck. Her thumbs grazed his beard, coarse hair a strange texture compared to the fine strands under the pads of her fingers.

He purred.

The sound made her chuckle, but then she squealed, feeling his own hands rounding over her hips.

“I want to fuck you.” 

He pulled her closer, opening his legs, pressing his forehead to her sternum.

“Please do.”

“I want to be rough,” he confessed, caressing her butt through her clothes. His fingers pressed on the outside of the sensitive line where her thighs began. Promising, seducing, enchanting. 

She wanted him to just put them between her legs and finish the torture, but at the same time it was so damn pleasant. She was nearly vibrating with anticipation. 

“Good.” Was the only thing she could say. She wanted him unashamed of what he needed, she wanted to see if she could take him on.

“Tell me if anything will be too much,” he warned. 

Spencer lifted his head towards hers and leant down to press a kiss on those perfect lips. The beard was infuriatingly tickling her cheeks, the moustache scratching her nose when he tilted his lips for better access, but still it was the best kiss she’d ever had. It turned filthy when she straddled Bane's lap, his palms finding their way down her panties so fast she barely noticed when he slid her clothes away. She relished the wet glide of his tongue over hers, how hungrily he pressed her closer, how he tensed under her hips and after a while started grinding up. 

A sharp bite on her bottom lip made her gasp and he let her go, only to sink his teeth in the column of her neck. The sensation of Bane pulling on the thin skin there, and then licking and sucking a bruise was otherworldly. 

He was getting more fervent by the minute and all Spencer could say were gasps and moans, nothing even remotely close to an objection.

She gathered her thoughts enough to hoist his sweater up, getting her hands on his t-shirt and yanking on it impatiently.

“Take it off,” she commanded gruffly.

“I'll be the one giving the orders here,” he warned. “Stand at the foot of the bed.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Something in his eyes told her she would like the reward for her compliance, so she begrudgingly moved to where he pointed. She could feel her cheeks warmed with a blush, and her neck was scratched and slightly stinging on one side. Most importantly, her panties were already coated in a liberal amount of her juices. 

She watched Bane, equally affected, take off his clothes, piece by piece. She grinned at first, the sweater and t-shirt swiftly landing in a puddle on the floor. Then she smiled with a sweet pang of affection in her chest, when he leaned down to take off his boots and socks.

And then he stood up, and unbuckled his slacks.

“Oh yeah,” she whispered. 

“Look up,” he mocked. 

She did, gulping down saliva and not hiding her panting breaths. 

“May I suck you?” she asked before she could help herself.

She saw his jaw tensing when he gritted his teeth, and for a moment she was gripped with fear. What if he'd say no?

“On your knees.”

It was embarrassing, how fast she did what he asked, almost tripping in her eagerness. 

Bane prowled towards her, palming the bulge through his slacks. He stopped at the foot of the bed and leaned on the heavy frame.

“You have two minutes, then I'll be having my way with you.”

She barely listened, intent on getting his clothes out of the way, yanking the fabric so roughly she left scratches on his thighs. 

He didn't seem to mind.

Spencer let herself look up at him when she finally freed his cock, her expression confident and daring. The smile she flashed right before licking her lips resulted in Bane laughing, but the sound didn't last.

Carefully she opened her mouth just before the tip, caressing it with her warm breath, then she slowly slid her tongue to the underside.

Bane's mouth opened, trying to catch as much air as he could, in a fruitless attempt to keep calm. His stomach worked with each inhale and exhale, and he smoothed one hand across her cheek.

She leaned back and smacked her lips watching his reaction. Then she dived right in, taking in as much of Bane's cock as her mouth allowed. She held him steady with one hand at his base, the other clawing at his butt. She used the hold to encourage him to move forward and he followed without delay, fucking her mouth. 

His grunts and moans were enough to make Spencer slicker than a ripe peach, her sucking only increasing in enthusiasm after he started talking too.

“You look so good like this,” he panted breathlessly. “I can't wait to fuck you. I want to pound into you so hard you won't be able to stop crying out every time. I want to hold your throat and feel your moans, and have your pretty cunt snugly around my cock when I stuff your dirty little mouth with my fingers.” His breath hitched with the last word, affected by a particularly skilled combination of Spencer's tongue at the head of his cock and her hand caressing his base. “Oh fuck, you're good.” 

With the last sentence he forced her off and took her hands away. He stood for a moment with his eyes closed, holding his cock and pressing his mouth in a thin line.

“Close?”

He looked at her, still panting, and nodded. 

“On the bed, clothes off,” he instructed.

The duvet was cold when she slid on it, and a slight shiver ran down her arms. With nothing more than her underwear on, the room should have felt chilly. But the man standing before her made sure she was about to melt like butter under his heated stare.

“All of it,” Bane hissed.

“Why don't you make me take it off?”

A flash of surprise was visible in the faint tensing of his shoulders. Then he ran a palm over his cock and tilted his head back with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, sweet mercy,” Spencer whispered. 

She remembered how rough his hand felt, and how velvety was skin on his dick. The contrast between his own coarse touch and her previous slick sucking must have been an overwhelming sensation. His throat worked down a gulp, and with a slight tremor the whole thick expanse of his perfect masculine body begged to be worshipped.

And worship Spencer would, if only he'd let her. 

Licking his lips with a moan Bane straightened back his head, looking down at Spencer.

He mocked her, she realized.

“You won't touch me until I take all of my clothes off.”

“Mhm,” he murmured, still working idly on his flesh.

It was very difficult not to let her mind go blank and just watch him,  _ would that be a bad thing? _ , but she couldn't just look. She had to touch, and be touched.

Bane let out an appreciative hum when she shifted to her knees and took off her bra. He smiled at the unintentionally dramatic reveal of her breasts, when she unclasped the magnetic lock between the cups, and he slid his slacks all the way down as well. 

Then she threw the bra away and pushed her panties to her knees. 

“Stop,” Bane ordered. “Turn around.”

As she did, she heard crinkle of a packet and slight gasp. He was putting on a condom and she frowned, disappointed she didn't get to watch him do it. 

The bed dipped, and he positioned himself behind her and in the same movement swiftly manhandled Spencer to his liking. His left palm held her by the hip, pulling back briefly, and the other pushed her down to the mattress.

“Stay like this,” he said. 

Before she had decided whether she liked this offer or not, his hands slid towards her core. The anticipation had her fisting her fingers in the duvet, 

“When's the rough part?” she asked.

Bane pressed with his palms on her buttocks, pulling them apart for better view. 

“All in good time.” he promised, sounding somewhat distracted. “I've been thinking about this moment.”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering whether to tease you and make you come with my fingers first,” he murmured sliding one thumb along her opening,” or perhaps, should I just fuck you without further ado.”

Spencer sucked in a breath when she felt the head of his cock slowly breaching her entrance. 

“Oh fuck, you're tightening so beautifully,” he praised. A desperate whimper escaped her when he slid away.

“Please just fuck me,” she pleaded.

His fingers returned to her cunt, stroking through the wetness there.

“What was that?”

For once, Spencer liked the fact that people usually took her for meek and mild mannered. It made all moments like this more profound and the impact of her words bigger.

“I want your cock Bane. You promised me rough fucking, and I'm not really sure how you are going to deliver with all this teasing.”

She grinned, watching his reaction from the corner of her eye. 

He saw right through her bravado of course, but the hand on her ass tightened reflexively as she spoke. 

“Careful with your pretty little mouth, love.” His cock bobbed again at her entrance. “You'll get yourself in trouble. “

“I like dan-” 

He waited to push right when she had spoken, strangling her words with the sensation of his cock stretching through her opening and into her slickened cunt. 

The feeling made him shun any ounce of hesitation he might have had, the intoxicating pull almost dizzying in its intensity. The heat and pressure on his cock made him groan out loud, and gulp a greedy mouthful of air. He pressed himself close, while keeping Spencer’s hips flush to his. 

Meanwhile, she was going crazy under his steady hold, straining muscles quivering in her legs.

“Don't move,” Bane hissed.

“Why not?” The words came out in an outraged gasp, as if she was wounded and hurt that he didn't pound her immediately. 

“I'll come too soon if you do,” he warned with a breathless chuckle.

He might as well come anyway, seeing how she really couldn't stay still. Even though her ass was firmly immobilized by his hands, Spencer still tried to sway her hips, grinding minutely to get more of Bane's cock inside, flexing her inner muscles around him in a way that left him moaning. 

“Oh fucking hell, woman!” He growled. Her cunt gripped him greedily and desperately, and it was driving him mad. “Better hold on tight. “

He didn't exaggerate before, when he worried about the force of his fucking. The thrusts were powerful and merciless, each and every one executed with savage intensity. His tempo was slow to begin with, but soon he was taking from Spencer every bit of resolve she had left, gasping cries leaving her mouth with each slap of his hips. 

It was loud and unkind, the sounds mingling in the falling dusk, Bane's groans and panting breath gushing in warm gusts of air over Spencer's sweaty back. 

His eyes closed and he furrowed his brows, trying not to obsess over Spencer under him. Right there, on the same bed he helped put together. How helpless she sounded under him, how vulnerable. 

Her throat was getting raw from the rapid inhales, from the sobbing whimpers she let out whenever Bane stilled for just a moment, only to slide out and sink back with next brutal thrust. 

“Please keep going,” she pleaded, the pleasure mingling with discomfort in a heady mix. “I want more.”

“More?” He practically snarled. His hips shifted when he doubted down over her, his cock pushed inside her at a different angle, pressing at her front wall. Spencer moaned when she felt him sliding one palm from her flank, up her chest, surely and quickly grabbing her throat. He didn't squeeze, he didn't choke her, but the pressure served to remind her who was in charge. She couldn't hold back a moan.

“You will get much more, love,” he murmured in her ear, relishing the caress of her vibrating gasps under his hand. “You will get so much of me, you will be sore from taking.”

“Oh, yes please.” 

“What a filthy girl,” he mocked. “So very naughty.“

With those words he resumed fucking her, his cock pushing insistently forward, sliding through in short, tight movements. His free hand cupped the front of her sex, fingertips grazing her clit.

All the while, Bane was slamming into her, the in-and-out movement enough to stroke her everywhere. 

A pained groan escaped him when her fingers joined his, pushing past to grab a feel of his flesh sawing between her legs. 

Her panties were still at her knees, preventing her from spreading her thighs wider, trapping Bane in the exquisite tightness it created. It was delicious, but this would not do, not at all. 

She was almost panicked when he slid out, her cry of protest against the lack of his heat behind her as reassuring as it was sudden. 

Bane prowled on all fours over her, and effortlessly turned her around with simple yank on her hips.

Spencer was flushed, panting heavily, hair an absolute mess. The desire was clear in her eyes, halting Bane's lunge down for a minute.

“God, you're beautiful.”

There wasn't any time to savour her shy smile, or the way her hands reached out towards him. Straightening he shifted to her feet, sliding the desecrated panties down. On his way up he leaned in, licked the sweat off her thighs, applying just enough pressure with the flat of his tongue to make her gasp and part her legs for him. An invitation as clear as anything, but he didn't plan on taking it right now. He had better things scheduled. But he couldn't resist a small lick, and then a kiss at the apex of her thighs, her creaming cunt sweet and tangy, and absolutely addictive.

“Oh Santa baby!” She moaned out.

That got him right out of the headspace. 

“Seriously?”

Swift movement of his head was fast enough to catch her sheepish grin. He smiled back, and resumed his way up her body, tasting the way her stomach fluttered when she giggled.

“I'm ticklish!”

He growled and pressed his head on her sternum, lightly, just enough to hide his face between her breasts. She helped him with getting a good grip on each of them, showing with her fingers how she liked her nipples touched. Bane was following her lead, filling his palms with her body, twisting and pulling on the thin skin at the very top, finally licking the areolas and biting the underside. 

His hips naturally fit between her legs. The involuntary grinding was eagerly reciprocated, and he felt Spencer's small hand grabbing his cock, stroking roughly once or twice, then putting him to her cunt.

This time Bane didn't mock or ask her, only pushed in, rising on his hands to reach her lips at the same time. Her fingers sneaked through his hair, keeping him as close as possible. He moaned right into her mouth, wet gliding of his tongue mimicking exactly the way his cock steadily pushed into her heat.

The friction points burned intimately, her hipbones prodding into his stomach a bit. Skin on his knees chafed a little on the duvet, but he didn't wince or change his pace, focusing only on delivering the next thrust.

He broke the kiss, pulling her hair to make her neck exposed to his hungry mouth. His name left her lips in a breathless chuckle, and he growled, biting into the delicate skin below her ear, picking up his tempo. He kept her opened with free hand hooked under her knee, his thrusts turning more and more vigorous by the second. 

Muscles in his back burned with exertion, the forced position rushing him to completion a little too fast. Spencer never stopped crying out each time he bottomed out, never asked him to stop.

Bane caught himself upping the pace to his natural fast and relentless brutal rhythm. A little too rough for his previous partners. 

A long moan escaped Spencer before he could stop himself, then he felt her shiver and tense underneath him. She dug her nails deep into his shoulders and Bane refused to look away, watching her come, falling apart before his very eyes. 

Just as she came back to herself, he pressed down and kissed her deeply, one last time. For a moment he stopped, moving only his lips and tongue, sucking the satisfaction out of her, and replacing it with burning need for more. 

“That was awesome,” she whispered at the end, small smile gracing her darkened lips.

“I'm not finished. “

“Oh, fuck.”

“Exactly, love. Exactly.“

He straightened on his knees and shifted both her legs to the side, holding them in one arm. After he pushed in again, the other hand firmly grasped her hip, stroking sweaty skin lightly with the side of his thumb.

“Tell me if anything will be too much,” he reminded.

“Fucking ride me already!”

The almost resentment in her words amused him, and he leered down, his smile turning predatory for a second and giving way to a level stare. Almost impassive.

But then he bit his lip, and moved his hips again.

Every push was punishing. Bane rose slightly on his knees, lifting Spencer’s hips off the bed, holding her legs so that she couldn't move at all and was only able to take him. 

She watched him with wide eyes, the vulnerable softness of her mouth exposed to him in a perpetual gasp as she gulped in the air. 

Bane was like a machine, never slowing his thrusts. The slap of skin on skin was deafening, his rough grunts mingling with Spencer's rising moans. His stomach worked with each inhale, muscles tensing with the force of his fucking, forearms bulging under the strain. He used her the way he wanted, and it was driving Spencer crazy.

This was his unfiltered need, the true face of his desire. Deep settled yearning to be the one to dictate the terms, to overpower and conquer, to lead. 

Without a pause, he changed his grip, angling Spencer's hips so that he was holding both her legs open, falling down over her with the drive to finish, to be as close to her as possible. 

Spencer sneaked one hand down to her clit and plucked, in time with his thrusts, tensing with him in a deliriously sweet prelude to the orgasm. She felt his head move as he looked down, moaning some obscenities at the sight. Then he reached up, again circling her neck, holding onto her for the last of his pushes, greedily meshing their lips together. 

When he came it was with a shiver and a half strangled moan. Spencer tensed around him, drawing from his own orgasm, milking his cock with frantically fluttering walls of her cunt. Her hands itched to caress every inch of him at once, stroking through the last tremors, soothing twitching muscles.

It was glorious, how he relaxed and sighed, how his muscled arms held her steady, head bowed and chest heaving deep breaths. 

The oxytocin high didn't seem to stop well after their hearts settled to their old rhythm. Spencer giggled when Bane's beard tickled her cheeks, and she pressed a sweet and gentle kiss on his forehead.

“I'll go get something to drink,” Bane said quietly. 

She listened to him walking down the corridor, bare feet softly padding on the wooden floor.

“You want a beer?” He shouted from the kitchen.

Spencer smiled looking at the intricate lamp high up over the bed.

“Just some water, please!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! Do leave a comment, favourite, kudos or anything else that you may leave to show that you read and hopefully enjoyed this little story. The more incentive to writers, the more delicious fanfics for you. The people! ;)
> 
> I already have an idea for next year's fic, but let's not take it for granted. I wouldn't mind if someone would remind me in a few months.

**Author's Note:**

> R&R, those comments sustain me!


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